


A Brush with Death

by Hold_en



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Adult Hermione Granger, Angst, Enemies to Friends, Enemies to Lovers, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Happy Ending, Redemption, Romance, Severus Snape Lives
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-13
Updated: 2020-05-24
Packaged: 2021-03-01 22:14:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 27,704
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23634424
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hold_en/pseuds/Hold_en
Summary: Hermione Granger saved Snape that fateful night in the Shrieking Shack, much to his displeasure. Now she's back at Hogwarts as an apprentice and she can't help but keep running into her old enemy.  Has Snape changed since his brush with death? Has Hermione?---------------------------------------------------------------------In times like this, I need a bit of escapism in my plots. Less angst, more sweet. I am not a fluff girl, but this will not be my usual angst-filled saga (though a little angst is present) A sweet tale told in five parts. I hope you enjoy it.The rating may change -  we'll see.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Severus Snape
Comments: 148
Kudos: 546





	1. Chapter 1

The war was over.

It had been over for ten full minutes.

The grounds of Hogwarts were scorched. The building in such disrepair it would take weeks of spell work to have it restored to its natural state.

And despite it all, there was such joy in the courtyard. Screams of relief, raised wands in victory, tight hugs and whispered echoes of surrender. Hermione watched this all as if in a dream.

Harry and Ron flanked her, trying to brace themselves against the onslaught of public cries of thanks and adoration. She felt jostled and exhausted. She could only imagine how Harry felt. She looked up to her friend, seeing the weariness in his eyes, despite his smile.

Voldemort was dead. Dead and never to return, thanks to Harry. And wasn't that cause enough for such jubilation?

So then why did Hermione feel so strange ascending up the staircase to Dumbledore's office - McGonagall’s now. Or was it still considered Snape's? Could it still be considered Snape’s if he was laying dead in the Shrieking Shack?

She could still see the emptiness in his beetle black eyes. Still smell the coppery scent of his blood spilt on the dusty floorboards. She could still see the ragged flesh of where Nagini had torn his throat. Hermione didn’t know if that image would ever leave her. 

“Potter? Weasley? Granger?” McGonagall was marching towards them in the courtyard, her face ruddy and her hair all over the place. It was startling to see such a put together woman look so out of sorts.

“Yes Professor?” Ron hedged, unsure of what was to come. In all honesty he was enjoying the attention from the staff and students milling about.

“Your presence is required elsewhere.” She made a motion with her head for them to follow, and like the Gryffindor cubs that they were, they did so without hesitation.

“The Daily Prophet is probably here to take our picture,” Ron whispered to them as they walked.

“I hope not,” Harry groaned.

“Don’t be silly,” Hermione argued, though there wasn’t much force behind it. “They wouldn’t have had time to get here. Only the Headmaster can apparate onto Hogwarts grounds.”

They fell silent at that, trudging towards the Headmaster’s office, still covered in the grime of battle. Hermione caught her reflection in one of the windows as they entered and she saw the wild curls and snags of her dark hair. She thought about reaching into the beaded bag she still wore and finding something to wipe her face with.

But why? She remembered how much her looks had bothered her all her life – her bushy hair and big front teeth. Now in the sober light of winning a war it all seemed so… Silly to care about.

They entered into Dumbledore’s office where a smiling Portrait of Albus stood, looking expectantly to them. Harry beamed and Hermione and Ron shot each other looks of disbelief – they had done it! The war was over!

Before anything could be said, an eruption of claps sounded around them from the portraits of past Hogwarts headmasters clapped and cheered. Even Phineas gave a robust clap and nod in their direction.

Harry gave an awkward rumple of his hair and the tips of Ron’s ears went red. Hermione herself glanced up around at the head’s of Hogwarts, her eyes lingering on the large empty portrait beside Dumbledore’s, the spot reserved for Hogwart’s next Headmaster.

“You’ve done so well,” Minerva enthused, looking at the three faces with admiration. “And I hate to tear you away from your friends at a time like this. But you see, I could not deny this particular request.”

At this she gestured to the portrait of the wizened Albus, his blue eyes twinkled merrily, obviously proud of his three charges. Hermione felt a twinge of something pass through her, not completely registering.

“I’ll leave you to talk,” Minerva said, moving to the door and closing it behind her gently. Then it was just the three of them and Albus’ portrait. The other Headmasters from times past were quiet, looking down at the trio with looks of mingled adoration and surprise.

In truth, it was fairly shocking even to Hermione that they’d survived. When Harry went to meet Voldemort in the forest she had been terrified that they wouldn’t. And now she was here, standing between her two dearest friends. They had beaten all the odds and survived. 

“Are the rumours true?” Albus said, even though he knew perfectly well.

“Yes,” Harry grinned. “It’s over. Voldemort is dead.”

“You found all the horcruxes,” Albus said with a voice of small awe. “In no small part to Miss Granger and Mr Weasley, I'm sure.”

Hermione and Ron blushed at the praise as Harry nodded vigorously.

“My boy, you’ve done it,” Albus said to Harry, his quiet voice choked with emotion. Harry smiled widely, looking to his mentor with a look of admiration and pride. Hermione squeezed Harry’s hand, so proud of her friend.

“ _We_ did it,” Harry said. “All of the Order.”

_The Order._

At the mention of the Order Hermione started, gripping Harry’s hand so tightly he winced. She felt a wave of dull horror start at the base of her feet before moving through her entire body. Harry glanced over to see what she was on about.

“Wait,” Hermione said aloud, her eyes flying open until the whites showed all around the darkened iris. Her eyes scanned the walls of portraits. “He’s not there.”

Albus, unperturbed at being interrupted, turned her eyes on the wild-eyed girl between the equally confused boys. She suddenly pulled from them, her wand brandished and her eyes going between her friends as Albus looked on.

“Miss Granger-“

“Ron, go to Madame Pomfrey,” Hermione threw over her shoulder. “Tell her to prepare a bed. Harry you need to get all the blood replenishing potions you can from Snape’s stores and bring it to her.”

Before her friends could ask anything more Hermione had streaked out of the Headmaster’s office. She scanned the corridors for McGonagall but she must have moved to another part of the castle. There wasn’t time to search for another, nor time to cast a patronus; there would be time for that later.

***

She skidded quickly around the corner and up the stairs of the Shrieking Shack. She took the stairs two at a time, her heart pounding in time with the rapid steps. She had been so weary after the battle but now her body moved with renewed purpose.

Finally she was at the top of the stairs and...

He was there, his body slumped in the corner of the shack, like some forgotten pile of rubbish. The sight pained Hermione, realizing he had been left there, imagining himself a villain. How long ago had they been there? An hour? Was he still alive? Had she been overreacting? His eyes were shut, and he didn’t appear to be breathing.

He lay in a pile of his own blood. The cravat he wore around his neck was soaked with scarlet blood. She dropped to her knees, her hands searching past the congealed blood at his neck for a pulse. And when she found it, the guilt took her over.

"I'm so sorry," Hermione said through sobs. “I’m so sorry.”

At the sound of her voice and feel of her hands, Snape’s face morphed into a think of pain. He couldn’t turn his head to look at her straight on, but his eyes opened slowly and fixed upon her tear-stained face.

“Granger?”

In that moment the man who had terrified her through school looked so lost that she had to tamp down the urge to hug him. Instead she produced her wand and summoned a patronus.

“Tell Professor McGonagall I am in the Shrieking Shack with Snape. He is alive.”

The playful otter swam through the sky before disappearing completely. Hermione could only hope that it was strong enough to make it to the castle in time. She began to rifle through her bag, talking hurriedly.

"I’m so sorry sir, we thought you were dead." Hermione was trying not to sniffle. “We did it sir, we defeated Voldemort. Everything you worked for? It was worth it. You did it.”

Snape said nothing, but his eyes shuttered a moment as if nodding in acknowledgement. Hermione wanted to say more, but she was focused on finding the objects she had been searching for. Finally her fingertips brushed against a small, stony object and several phials and she withdrew both with a look of triumph. She lay them on the floor in a small napkin before diving into the bag once more up to her shoulder and producing a small jar.

"Dittany," she said, holding it in his line of view even though she knew he was very aware of what it was. "But first the bezoar."

She thrust the crystalline stone towards her professor's mouth. He grimaced, closing is eyes in pain.

"Don't."

Hermione's hand stilled, the stone bussing against her professor's lower lip. Her eyes searched his.

"Why?"

"It's over... The war... Lily. I-I kept my promise."

Harry had mentioned that in the final battle hadn't be? Snape’s ensuring love for Lily Potter? So strange for a man so consumed with his own bitterness to have a heart so open.

"And now you can start a new life," Hermione implored, trying to push the bezoar into his mouth. At this Snape's uneven teeth clamped shut and he groaned at the pain the motion caused. 

"No."

"Please," Hermione whispered. Snape's voice was growing fainter by the second. “This will help counteract the poison. Then the blood replenishing-“

"My story... ends here," Snape finally said, his voice so soft Hermione had to lean forward to catch it. "Let...it be done."

"Leave a war hero to die on the floor? Killed by a meglomaniac that stripped him of everything? Are you mad?" 

Hermione had never spoken so forcefully to a professor, especially him of all people. He had always intimidated her. She saw his lips, tinged with blue, trying to curve into a displeased sneer.

But that motion seemed to zap him of his remaining strength. Before he could offer a witty retort he slumped further than the wall, his angular chin touching his chest.

He was no longer conscious enough to berate or deny her. Before she could stop herself she'd shoved the beazor into his mouth and down his throat. He was barely moving and so she gingerly tilted his neck back, rubbing his throat until it had settled.

The dittany came next, spread liberally with her shaking fingers against the ragged wounds on his neck. She could have wept when she saw that the trickle of blood that had been gently flowing down his pale throat had stopped, as if internally plugged. The ragged flesh began knitting itself together. But then to her horror she saw the wounds begin to open again, the blood starting afresh.

 _I need an antidote_ , Hermione realized, recalling Arthur Weasley’s run in with Nagini. Oh, but Snape had brought an antidote to one of the Order meetings! She remembered!

Again she raised her wand and called upon her Patronus.

“Snape has the antidote to Nagini’s venom somewhere in his stores. Retrieve it and bring to the infirmary.”

Her attention was back on Snape as the otter scurried off. He looked so ashen she wondered if by moving him she’d done even further damage. But she had nothing on hand that would help. She would have to work with what she had. 

"You can hate me after you've woken up," Hermione urged to the lifeless form of Snape as she measured out the dose of the blood replenisher with trembling fingers and slipped that into his mouth. 

"You can hate me after you've lived a life that was properly your own. Not Voldemort's. Or Dumbledores. You can hate me after you've found a new woman to love. You can hate me when you marry her and have lots of greasy haired babies."

Hermione knew she was rambling hysterically, but this picturesque life for a man she only recently began to respect was warming her. It kept her calm and focused as she slid more of the mixture over Snape's tongue. The column of his throat bobbed, instinctively swallowing.

"You can hate me after you've written your own potions book and received your Order of Merlin."

She waited for the colour to return to his cheeks. She waited for him to come sputtering back to life.

"You can hate me for the rest of your life, just please don't die!" Hermione begged, hating the injustice of his rapidly approaching death. "Not yet! Not now!"

Without thinking she'd gathered the tall man to her body, hugging him as tightly as possible. His body was slender and cool to the touch. This close she could smell the sweat and the blood.

It was then that it all became too much. Holding the dying form of Snape, knowing that so many from Hogwarts were dead. All the exhaustion seemed to overtake her and before she could stop herself, the darkness at the edge of get vision took over completely.

* * *

"Hermione?"

The world was echoing and her head swam. When Hermione blinked she had to do so several times, for the images in front of her were blurry and out of focus. Finally they began to take shape and she recognized Harry’s concerned face staring down at her from the side of a hospital bed.

“How did-“

“McGonagall,” Ron offered from the other side of the bed, looking at her worriedly. “She got your Patronus. And since she’s Headmistress she was able to Apparate you here.”

Hermione glanced around, realizing she was in the infirmary. Healers in lavender robes were moving from bed to bed, checking on those injured from the battle. Hermione groaned, struggling to sit up. She felt as if she had run a marathon. She realized that Harry and Ron looked freshly scrubbed, wearing new clothes.

“How long have I been asleep?”

“A week,” Harry acknowledged. Before Hermione could question this shocking revelation, a haggard Madame Pomfey rushed over when she realized Hermione was awake. 

“Miss Granger, how good to have you back,” her smile turned to a frown as she took in Harry and Ron. “And I thought I told _you_ two I would call when she woke up. Now stop crowding my patient! I’ll call when she can have visitors.”

Pomfrey looked at the boys who gave sheepish smiles and pressed kisses to Hermione’s cheeks before leaving. Hermione felt a bit heartsick watching them walk out the doors of the hospital wing.

“Thank you for everything,” Hermione said, glancing guiltily around the busy and crowded infirmary. “I didn’t mean to make more work for you.”

“Nonsense,” Pomfrey scoffed. She turned, gripping a small tablespoon of something yellow and bringing it to Hermione’s mouth. Hermione took it without question, surprised when a sweet lemon taste greeted her.

“But why am I still here?”

“When they brought you back here I was concerned you might be infected from Professor Snape’s bite,” Pomfrey looked saddened. “Your clothes were covered in his blood. Thankfully we had some antidote from his stores. But I wanted to keep you here for observation.”

_Snape._

Hermione tried to swallow her tears as she recalled his lifeless form in her arms. 

"Snape," Hermione said, her eyes filling with tears. "I tried-"

"And succeeded," Pomfrey interrupted. She moved to the curtain separating Hermione's bed from the next patient and drew it back.

There, in all his pale glory, with a thick bandage around his neck was Severus Snape. 

He was dozing, his eyes fluttering behind his eyelids. His body was wrapped tightly in blankets, leaving only his shoulders and head exposed. He looked so peaceful and suddenly the realization that he wasn’t dead became clear.

Hermione couldn’t stop herself. The tears came quickly accompanied by sobs that seemed to come from the bottom of her feet. Pomfrey closed the curtains, casting a quick _muffliato_ charm. She sat on the edge of Hermione’s bed, rubbing her back in the same way Hermione’s mother used to. This only served to make her cry harder. After a few minutes the sobs turned to hiccups which them turned to soft whimpers.

"We found the antidote in his stores, just as you predicted." Pomfrey was smiling thankfully. "Without you he would have died, Miss Granger."

Hermione leaned back against the cool pillows of the bed, her eyes on the curtain separating she and Snape.

“I want to keep you overnight,” Pomfrey said, brushing the hair back from Hermione’s red and damp face. “You need another good night’s rest.”

“I’ll sleep at home,” Hermione insisted, trying to move from the bed. “You’ve done so much-“

“You’ll do as I say, Hermione Granger,” Pomfrey said with a severe look. “And I won’t hear another word. Now, get some sleep.”

***

It was somewhere around two am that Hermione felt herself waking abruptly. Someone in the far end of the infirmary had knocked over a phial and the sound had startled her. She realized she best get used to that – she would be on edge the rest of her life. 

She rose from her bed, standing shakily. She felt a bit disorientated, but that soon passed. Her bare feet were cool on the stone floor, but that was the least of her concerns.

She stared at the pale beige curtain separating she and Snape. She wondered if he was sleeping. Was he in an awful amount of pain? Had she done the right thing? Of course she had – he would have a chance to live a real life!

She felt desperate to talk to him, desperate to see the relief and perhaps even thanks in his coal black eyes. Gripping her wand she pulled back the drapery, peeking her head around. She was shocked to see Snape awake, looking into middle distance.

He was propped into a sitting position, dressed in powder blue infirmary pyjamas. The blankets covered him from the waist down. His hands were pale even against the whiteness of the hospital sheets.

He was alive.

“Professor Snape?”

The bandages prevented him from turning, but she saw his eyes blink rapidly in surprise at the sound of her voice. She pulled the curtain fully back, stepping into his space and moving to the end of his bed so he could see her. His dark eyes followed her trail, coming to rest on her face as she stood there. He looked so beleaguered, so exhausted. 

They stared at one another a moment before Hermione remembered herself. She pulled her wand and cast a _muffliato_ and gave him a shaky smile. 

“You’re alive.”

“So it would seem,” Snape said, his voice flat. Despite the fact that he wasn’t in robes or glowering at her, he still struck her as an intimidating figure. He continued to stare at her and Hermione felt herself faltering under his harsh gaze. Hermione's mouth was dry and for once she was completely at a loss of what to say. 

"How did you know?" Snape pondered aloud, closing the silence between them. "That I was alive?" 

"Your portrait," Hermione explained, feeling awkward standing there in front of him in her hospital pyjamas. She crossed her arms over her chest. "When Dumbledore passed away his portrait was there right away. Yours was empty."

"Interesting." Snape's tone was almost approving. If not for what she had done, he appreciated her deduction skills. That was something, surely? 

“I was so worried you’d hate me,” Hermione blurted, feeling her chin wobble as she spoke. The image of him on the floor of the shack was enough to cause her to burst into tears.

"Who's to say I don't?"

He reply was so silken, so casual that it took Hermione a moment to register what he’d said. Her eyes grew larger and wet, blinking rapidly as she tried to digest this information.

"I told you I didn't want to live,” Snape sneered. “Death was my reward. An end to this miserable sham of a life."

Hermione knew she was slack jawed at this. She couldn't comprehend wanting to end her own life, the suggestion was too unbelievable. 

“I told you to leave me. I told you to go. But you didn’t listen. You did what _you_ thought was the right thing to do. Just had to show off did you?”

Snape, unable to do much else, had balled his hands into angry firsts at his side.

"Now I've been wrenched back into a life I have no interest in pursuing. A life behind bars in Azkaban. A life full of pointed fingers and stares. All because Hogwarts biggest know-it-all thought she knew better than me about my own death!"

Snapes eyes continued to pierce her, holding her in place. Blood was roaring in her ears and she knew she must have looked completely beside herself. She had never even considered Azkaban – after everything Harry had told her, how could he be sentenced there?

"You won't go to Azkaban," Hermione croaked. "Harry-"

"Leave," Snape interrupted, his uneven teeth clenched and bared as he issued the command. "For once in your life do as someone says without questioning."

With that he tilted his gaze from her and Hermione felt her shaky legs move her hurriedly back to her own bed. She threw the curtain between them and slipped between her bed sheets, her heart hammering a rapid staccato of fear and regret long into the morning. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As with all things, I couldn't keep it short. So this will be 4 parts instead of three. I hope you enjoy it ! Please do leave reviews as they encourage me to type faster !!

_Dear Harry, and Ginny,_

_As you know I start my apprenticeship with Flitwick next week and my stomach is in absolute knots. I keep distracting myself with memories of your absolutely gorgeous wedding. I'm still reeling from the beauty of it all. I thank you again for the lovely pen set you bought me, I especially love the color-changing ink!_

_I'll see you two at 7:30 on the 20th of October at the Three Broomsticks. Who knows? Maybe catching the bouquet will bring me luck and I'll bring along a date!_

_Love,_

_Hermione_

\-----

_Dear Ron,_

_Next week is when I officially become a "Hogwarts student" once more and no, I won't be starting any house-elf campaigns! I'm there to focus on being a charms apprentice and that's all I'll be doing. I saw your team photograph on the front of the quibbler this morning and you look so smart in your uniform! I hope you have a wonderful season._

_In answer to your question, I believe Luna mentioned moonstone being her favorite gem when we were students. But if you're not sure, ask her father. Give her a squeeze for me! I miss you both terribly!_

_And yes, I’ve spoken to Harry and Ginny and all the plans are set for after. We’re very excited!_

_Love_

_Hermione_

***

Hermione swallowed nervously as she approached the familiar stone building. It had been two years since she was last there. Two years since she'd left arm-in-arm with Ron and Harry too celebrate and mourn in equal measure. Despite its renovations it still feels the same. Warm and forbidding all at once.

And now she was returning - if only because Flitwick was the pre-eminant charms master in all of the UK (and very likely the wizarding world). Flitwick and Headmistress McGonagall had been delighted at her return, citing that she would be a welcome addition.

The only thing that gave her pause was... _Him._

The figure she had been shocked to learn stayed on after his rehabilitation at St Mungo's. Professor Snape; DADA Master.

As predicted he had been cleared of all charges once Harry brought his information and memories forward in the trial. Harry had the kind of sway none other did when it came to public opinion. With Kingsley as the minister it was hardly shocking that he and Harry would reach such an agreement.

Hermione had been at the trial, watching as the noble profile of Snape sneered out into the crowd. It was six months after the war and despite all he'd been through he looked decent. Well fed and rested. He wore his cravat slightly higher so the puckered, pink marks about his neck were unseen.

He looked neither relieved nor disappointed when he was announced a free man.

When he passed her, flanked with guards, she called out his name, desperate to say something, anything. She needed to know if he forgave her yet. She assumed her voice was lost in the crowd but he paused for a fraction, peering at her from the corner of his eyes before continuing out into the main foyer of the ministry.

She had not been forgiven.

The papers had covered his trial and return to society obsessively. After a year of extensive physical rehabilitation, Snape had returned to Hogwarts, hailed by some as a hero and others a villain, as the Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor.

McGonagall had been on the former belief and during one memorable press conference had explained that they were lucky to have a man like Severus Snape teaching their children and keeping them safe and if they didn't agree they were welcome to send their children to one of the other Wizarding schools.

The students had returned to Hogwarts in droves, almost reaching capacity.

And now Hermione was here amongst them, walking with her ginger cat sleeping merrily in her arms as she passed through the front door. None of the students seemed to give her a second glance. In her robes and youthful face she likely looked like a seventh year. If they noticed her face and recognized her, they made no mention of it and she was very thankful.

She needed to meet with McGonagall and get her rooms sorted. She was then to have tea with Flitwick and decide how the classes and apprenticeship would run from day to day. She was excited to see everyone and didn’t even flinch when Hagrid came out of nowhere, scooping her into a tight hug as Crookshanks ran off in search of breakfast. They’d caught up a bit with Hermione promising to stop by for some cauldron cakes later that week.

She broke from Hagrid and moved along the corridor with a large mass of students chatting and laughing. It felt very familiar and yet Hermione couldn’t not have felt less a part of it. She envied these students having a chance to study at this magical place without the constant threat of Voldemort.

She wondered idly If Snape felt that way and then all of a sudden, as if she had conjured him, there he was, stalking down the opposite end of the corridor, his eyes darting from side to side as if expecting battle. Hermione felt her heart sink at that sight, realizing that he still lived in fear and it was all her fault for subjecting him to a life he hadn’t want to lead. She she have left him for dead on that dirty shack floor? Had she made the right decision?

His hair was shorter, looked cleaner and for once he didn’t possess the same sallow, untended look, like a forgotten houseplant. Now he simply looked pale and sullen, but altogtether more healthy. His cravat was worn higher, almost directly under his chin.

It was such a stark contrast to how she had seen him in the hospital looking frighteningly slender and hollow. The man from the infirmary was a mere shadow to this formidable looking man walking down the corridor at a quick pace. She realized that where she stood amongst the milling students that he didn’t even register she was there, his eyes never coming to touch where she stood.

But what would happen when he did see her? How would he react?

“ _Please don’t hate me_ ,” Hermione’s nervous heart cried out. “ _Please have forgiven me.”_

Her mind whirred with what she would say to him when he approached, knowing he was likely to be prickly and unkind. What if he said something cutting in front of everyone? She couldn’t stand the thought. At the last moment, Snape turned sharply left and presumably to his classroom. Hermione felt simeltaneously relieved and disappointed. She would have to face him eventually and had been hoping to get it over with.

Then again, not having to face his ire was most assuredly a relief.

***

After a full day of running through protocols with McGonagall and timetables with Flitwick, a very tired Hermione dragged herself to the staff room. She had been told to arrive in decent robes and as she pushed open the door she could see why. It seemed all the staff of Hogwarts were there, drinking elf made wine, sampling delicious tarts and other desserts.

The room was warm with all the bodies inside it, and the fire that crackled in the large stone hearth seemed unnecessary. Everyone was smiling or chatting animatedly in small groups. McGonagall was talking about Quidditch with Flitwick in the far corner and Hermione swallowed nervously, praying she would be welcomed.

“Ah, Hermione!” McGonagall had seen her and was waving her over.It felt strange to have McGonagall use her first name. It felt wrong somehow, despite the fact that she was no longer a student.

She moved over to the group, squeezing between a very loud Hooch and a very animated Sprout.

“Thank you for inviting me,” Hermione said, feeling awkward as Minerva shoved a butterbeer into her hand.

“It’s tradition for all staff to congregate here the night before classes start,” Minerva said with a smile. “A way to fortify us against the onslaught of hormones and mischief.”

“I’m not really staff-“ Hermione started, stopping when she felt Flitwick gather her hand in his. He shot her a warm smile.

“You are my staff and it’s so good to have you here,” Flitwick offered with a gentle squeeze of her hand.

“Thank you Professor Fli-“

“It’s Filius to you now!” Flitwick squeaked with a laugh. 

“And Minerva!” McGonagall insisted with a warm smile.

“Now I want you to have a nice time tonight,” Flitwick encouraged. “Eat, drink and be merry because starting tomorrow we are on a very strict timetable!”

Hermione smiled down at her Charms Master and nodded. She was so excited to dive into the deep end of charms and he well knew it.

“Yes, sir.”

He released her hand before excusing himself to get another drink. McGonagall joined him, leaving Hermione standing awkwardly at the corner of the room.

Her bravery left along with the two of them and she she stood off to the side, glancing out the window. Despite the inky sky, she could just make out the shape of the black lake. She had a moment of reverie, recalling her time during the tri-wizard tournament.

She had been so brave then. She had fought Voldemort. Surely mingling with her former Professors shouldn’t be this hard?

“ _I must be braver_ ,” Hermione whispered to herself. “ _I can do this_. _I’ll simply ask them_ -”

A dark, silken voice interuppted her self assuring monologue.

“Talking to yourself, Miss Granger? How strange.”

Hermione felt her stomach and heart race for which could fall faster. She slowly turned her head, praying her features wouldn’t display the horror and fear that she now felt at having been addressed by Severus Snape.

_Has he always been so tall?_

“Hello Professor Snape,” she whispered, feeling her hands gripping her wineglass so tightly it may shatter. Unlike Filius he didn’t insist she drop the honorific. His face was devoid of its usual sneer and he held his wineglass aloft with the innate grace he’d always managed to cultivate.

When he didn’t aim to further the conversation and merely sipped his wine, Hermione felt it necessary to fill the silence.

"I'm apprenticing charms under Prof-Filius," Hermione corrected herself with an embarrassed duck of her head. "I'm his protégé. His apprentice.”

"I'd heard rumblings of such," Snape offered blandly, taking another sip of his blood-red wine. "I suppose winning the war and sitting your exams to the tune of seven O's is-"

"Wait," Hermione interrupted, immediately defensive. "Are you suggesting I only got my position because of my connections?"

Snape paused, scanning her face thoroughly. The corner of his mouth twitched in subtle amusement before he continued speaking.

"I'm suggesting nothing, Miss Granger. Merely observing that with all you've accomplished it was only natural you would have your choice of professors to work under."

Hermione had been expecting ire. She'd been expecting biting commentary on her lack of skills. What she hadn't been expecting was this strange truce, this finding of middle ground. She felt off-kilter, unsure if this was a play at subterfuge or genuine politeness.

"Oh. Thank you." Hermione knew her cheeks were pinking in embarrassment at her snafu.

"I was surprised to hear you'd returned to teaching."

"Mmm," was his noncommittal reply as he scanned the room of chatting Professors. "Well after a certain lack of options it seemed only natural."

"Lack of options?"

"Employment options," Snape gave a shrug to suggest that he didn't really care either way. "Luckily your Headmistress is a soft touch."

Hermione was surprised he was confiding so much to her. He'd never spoken to her like this almost as if she were an equal. It disoriented her, causing her to smile maniacally and nod emphatically.

“But you were cleared of all charges,” Hermione said, confused. “You were awarded an Order of Merlin.”

She didn’t mention that he hadn’t bothered to show up for the ceremony.

"The court of public opinion is always in session,” he said with a grimace.

Hermione, desperate to repay his previous politeness with some of her own, quickly launched into her own vitriolic response.

"Sod public opinion," she insisted, tilting her chin a fraction in a motion of determination. "Hogwarts is lucky to have your skills and expertise."

_Did I really just say sod in front of Professor Snape?_

Instead of looking aghast at her emphatic response, he looked rather amused. So amused that he smiled. Well, as close a smile as he could muster. Tight lipped and more a curving of the ends than a full smile. But still!

She'd never seen Snape smile before and she was shocked to find that along with the thin lipped smile, there was the shadow of a dimple at his left cheek. Had he always had that? Or had he been so gaunt before she had never noticed?

He had certainly filled out since she last saw him. Gone was the bony mess of waxen skin and unkempt hair. He still retained the tall, slim figure he always had but now with a softness that suggested regular filling meals. The thought warmed her.

Her eyes wandered down his face, instinctually to the spot at his neck where Nagini had bit him. She winced a bit, recalling the night and how she had found him. Guilt suffused her and she bit her lower lip to stop the regretful tears from pooling.

Immediately Snape’s eyes grew flinty and he moved away, shouldering past her as if she were some bothersome drapery.

She watched him leave the room entirely, leaving Hermione staring after him in regret until Sprout came over and started chatting about Leaping Toadstools.

***

“Congratulations!”

The entire pub erupted into applause and shouts as Ron and Luna entered into the Three Broomsticks. Ron was entirely red-faced but Luna was waving and smiling as if she were at the Notting Hill Carnival.

Hermione shrieked excitdly as they approached throwing her arms around a very tall Ron and a very joyful Luna. They both embraced her with one arm as she pulled back, beaming at them.

“So its official?”

“Yes,” Luna said, her bulging eyes taking in the crowd as she held up her hand which held a very beautiful moonstone ring. “And how wonderful that all our friends happen to be here to celebrate it with us.”

Harry and Hermione exchanged looks of amusement before nodding and leading the two over to the buffet. Soon Ron and Luna were caught up in a conversation with Neville and Hannah about Ron’s upcoming Quidditch season.

Hermione managed to find a quiet area for she, Harry and a now pregnant Ginny who looked none too impressed at having to miss out on a pint.

“They look so in love,” Hermione sighed happily.

“It’s disgusting,” Ginny frowned, looking over at her brother holding Luna round the waist.

“You think everything’s disgusting,” Harry said with mirth as he pressed a kiss to her temple.

“I blame the hormones,” Ginny groaned, grabbing her swelling stomach. “I swear there are at least five in there.”

“Just think, you’ll have a newborn just in time for Ron and Luna’s wedding,” Hermione said with a giggle at the dramatic dark look Ginny shot her.

“How’s work, Harry?”

Harry regaled the three of them with stories of his Auror department, especially on the cases he had been assigned recently. Not surprisingly, Harry was brilliant at his job and especially talented at executing justice in a fair and measured way.

After a few hours the party seemed to be winding down. Soon it was only a handful of them sitting around a large wooden table, drinking and laughing about memories past. Many of which involved Neville doing something stupid.

“Hermione, how are-“ Harry started, his eyes soft and emotional looking. Hermione jumped to her feet, looking down at her friends.

“I’m off to get another pint. Gin, you want a gillywater?”

***

After a while they drifted into two groups – one sitting by the fire and dozing lightly with Ron, Hermione and Harry who remained sitting around the table.

“So you’ve been at Hogwarts almost two month now,” Harry looked to Hermione. “How does it feel?”

“Strange,” Hermione said sthoughtfully. “Rather like when I returned to take my N.E.W.T.s. As I belong there but don’t belong there.”

She looked into her drink, feeling a bit downhearted. She had so much coming up with her Charms. Not only that, but Snape had gone out of his way to ignore her since the strange meeting on her first night at Hogwarts. It had been another layer of stress she hadn’t needed.

“What’s the matter?” Ron said, looking concerned at her displeasure. “You don’t like it?”

“Oh no, I do,” Hermione quickly assured her friends. “I really do. Filius is so knowledgable and Minerva and everyone else are so encouraging.”

“So then what’s the problem?”

“It’s silly,”Hermione said with a sigh. “But I’m a bit nervous. Flitwick has to go away for an afternoon next month and I’m to take over teaching his afternoon Charm’s class.”

“Brilliant!” Ron insisted, slanting an amused look over to Harry. “Those were the days, eh?”

The two boys clinked their tankards together before drinking.

“I think I’m just nervous that I’ll mess it up,” Hermione said into her pint glass. “I’m not that much older than the students and I’m terrified that without Flitwick there they’ll just act out and ignore me.”

“Don’t be so fussed,” Harry insisted, putting a gentle hand on her shoulder. “You’re such a perfectionist Hermione. You’re going to drive yourself mad.”

“Besides,” Ron insisted. “You just have to think of something that’ll get their attention.”

“Like what?”

“We really enjoyed duelling,” Ron offered after a beat.

“Remember Snape and Lockheart?” Harry asked as laughter bubbled between the three of them. Could they ever forget that second year duel? Hermione tossed the idea over in her head. She didn’t know if it was the alcohol or the idea, but it really seemed like a grand idea.

“That’s actually a really brilliant idea,” Hermione said. “Not a duel of course, but a demonstration. That would get them excited!”

“Just don’t ask Snape,” Ron said to his drink. “We all saw how that ended for Lockheart.”

The three friends collapsed into laughter.

***

Professor Sinistra would be away that entire week for a symposium on Canopus.

Professor Slughorn had classes until late that evening.

Hagrid was meeting a rare animals dealer.

Hooch had a Quidditch practice she needed to be preparing for.

And so on and so on. No matter who Hermione asked to be her demonstration partner, she was greeted with excuses. She had been desperate enough to corner Sprout and Vector in the staff room one rainy afternoon in late October.

“I was wondering if you might have a free period the last Thursday in November?” Hermione inquired, looking anxiously. She held her books aloft, eager to get back to her research.

Sprout was sipping a cup of tea and surveying her ragged fingernails but she glanced up as Hermione approached them.

“Busy with Devil’s Snare,” she frowned. “Sorry, love.”

Hermione’s eyes drew to Vector who was sitting, reading a book with fierce concentration. She lowered it when she felt Hermione’s eyes on her.

“I’m sorry I don’t,” Vector said, looking genuinely chagrined. “Why do you ask?”

“I wanted to do a lesson on defensive charms with my third years. I thought it might be beneficial to have a fellow Professor showcase a few charms with. Something to inspire them to dedicate themselves to their studies. ”

“Flitwick can’t help?” Sprout looked up from her tea. “That’s quite surprising.”

“He’s gone for the afternoon and this is my first chance to really teach independently,” Hermione frowned. “He agreed if I could find another Professor to demonstrate with. And I’ve asked nearly everyone that I think would be up for it.”

“Ah well,” Sprout patted her hand affectionately. “Perhaps you’ll just have to save the demonstration for another time.”

“Yes,” Hermionenodded, still feeling downhearted. She had been so excited to motivate her students. The door to the staff room opened and both Snape and McGonagall entered. Snape didn’t even give her the time of day before settling at the far end of the table and beginning to mark something on his parchment.

“Save your breath Hermione,” McGonagall said as Hermione turned her eyes imploringly at her former head of house. “I’ve not got the date free.”

McGonagall sniffed absently before pouring herself a cup of tea. Hermione was about to give up on the enterprise entirely when Minerva stopped as if struck by inspiration, gripping Hermione loosely by the shoulder.

“Oh, Severus!” McGonagall glanced over her shoulder to her old friend. “You have some free afternoons do you not? Perhaps you could assist Professor Granger next month?”

_No. No.No.No.No. Anyone but him! Voldemort himself!_

Hermione felt all the air being sucked out of the room. She knew her cheeks were burning as she boldly glanced over to him. His position hadnt changed one bit; he didn’t even look up from the parchment he was writing on.

“After Lockheart you trust me in a duel?” Snapemused, his eyes glued to the parchment.

“I hardly think a duel will be necessary,” McGonagall chuckled as she looked from Snape back to Hermione. 

“No, no not at all,” Hermione blurted nervously. “Simply a demonstration.”

Hermione’s gaze was riveted to the side of his face, mostly concealed by his hair. Having Snape as her partner for this demonstration was far different than from having Sprout or Vector. Having Snape there would be stressful. She almost hoped he would decline.

“I suppose that’s fine,” Snape finally rumbled casually, much to Hermione’s chagrin.

Snape was more a stranger than any other, more unknowable. Despite their positions he still felt more like an authority figure. And despite all she knew of his past thanks to Harry, he still felt like such an enigma.

“You wouldn’t mind?” she breathed.

“I agreed, did I not?” Snape replied tightly. Hermione could see irritation flickering across his features as he brought a nearby newspaper up to read, effectively blocking she and the rest of the room out. 

Hermione knew better than to push it. She gathered her materials from the table and shot McGonagall a quick smile of thanks before looking back to Snape who was concealed by the latest edition of the _Quibbler_.

“Erm, well that’s wonderful. Thank you. Could you be to the class the last Thursday of November at twelve thirty?”

The paper lowered a fraction, accompanied by a sharp head nod which Hermione decided to take as a firm and enthusiastic yes.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know. I said it would be 3 parts and now its 5. But I promise 5 is where it will end. I have already outlined the last chapter. Would love to know what you think of this chapter !!

The flagship floors were damp with the wet footsteps of students anxious to move from class to class whilst avoiding the downpour outside. The library was closed because Madame Pince was sick. And Hermione Granger was hurriedly making her way down the corridor to the staff room. Her bag was bursting with memory charm books and fresh quills.

Inside the dimly lit staffroom there were plush chairs round a roaring fire, with warm and fragrant coffee always available. It was also where she had heard rumor that Filius was at this very moment and she desperately needed to see him.

She burst into the warm room, hoping to find Filius alone. Much to her chagrin he sat at the long wooden table where they had their weekly staff meetings with the one Professor Hermione could not currently stand. 

Snape glanced up cooly at her as she entered. He was surrounded by parchment with spidery script, ancient looking defense books and a steaming cup of black coffee. Filius sat beside him, the remnants of a elf-made scone stil littering his plate.

“Ah Hermione,” Filius said, motioning for her to join them. “I was just talking to Severus about your demonstration next month.”

“Oh,” Hermione looked to Snape from where she stood at the far end of the table. He looked nonplussed, surrounded by parchment and books. He seemed to be irritation at the disruption. Though by Flitwick or herself, she couldn’t tell.

“The students are in for a real treat!” Filius continued with a beaming smile at her. “You might not know this, but our Professor Snape here is quite adept at charms.”

Hermione was hardly surprised at this. He was the Half-blood Prince after all. But still she politely nodded as if this were new information.

“Hardly,” Snape frowned, tossing off the compliment as if he were a bird shaking off water. He turned back to his parchment and began writing hurriedly; the conversation was over. Filius however looked merrily over to where Hermione still stood looking uncomfortable at the far end of the table.

“Filius, I wondered if I might have a word with you?”

“I’ve five minutes before my next meeting,” Filius said, hobbling over to the chair nearest her. “I’m sure I could spare them for you.”

“Erm thank you,” Hermione’s eyes went to Snape’s distracted posture and then back to Filius. “But perhaps we might have this conversation in private.”

The last thing Hermione wanted was Snape overhearing her insecurities. He would likely use them as fodder at the next opportunity he saw to mock her. Snape scowled at her before raising his ebony wand.

“I’ll cast a self _muffliato_. I’ve papers to mark.”

With that he’d cast the spell on himself and quickly got back to his parchment. Hermione shot a thankful look in his direction before Filius and she collected at the far end of the table, sinking into the creaking chairs. 

“As you know, when you’re gone next month I’ll be doing the demonstration with Professor Snape.” Hermione knew that Snape couldn’t hear anything thanks to the spell, but still her anxious gaze drew to him.

He was leaning so far over his parchment his generous nose almost touched the paper. She wondered idly if he might need spectacles before turning her attention once more on the diminutive wizard to her right.

"And I have to admit that I'm nervous,” Hermione explained whilst twisting her fingers together anxiously. Filius’ bushy white brows drew together in concern.

“About what my dear?”

Hermione paused, almost afraid to admit that she was worried. It seemed so unnatural that she, a brave girl should be so anxious and yet she was.

"About the lesson I'm to teach independently,” she finally offered softly. “The one I suggested to you."

"What’s to be anxious about?" Filius continued, re-adjusting his spectacles. “You’re so talented at Charms, Hermione. And given the progress only in your last two months of apprenticeship, I would say there is very little you cannot accomplish.”

"I'm worried they won't take me seriously," Hermione fretted.

“My dear you will do brilliantly!” Filius insisted in his customary squeaky voice. “You mustn’t worry about such a thing! Simply do your best.”

Snape gave a cough, his quill scratching loudly against the parchment. Hermione frowned at him before looking back at Filius who was gathering his things. It was obviously time to head to his next meeting.

He jumped down from the chair, the tip of his head only inches over the table. He looked up at Hermione with a warm look of sage knowledge all mixed into one.

“Hermione Granger you must believe that your best is simply all you can do.”

He gave her hand a gentle pat and then he left, leaving Hermione at one end of the staff table and Snape at the other. She did her best to ignore him and roll over in her mind what Filius had said. She pulled out the paper she had been working on and

“You need to garner their respect.”

Hermione’s eyes moved slowly up from her paper and down the long table to where Snape sat staring at her. His arms were crossing his chest and his mouth was in a thin line.

“Pardon?”

“Respect,” Snape repeated slowly as if she were particularly dim. “Otherwise they’ll walk all over you.”

“I thought you cast a self _Muffliato_ ,” Hermione accused indignantly.

“I’m aware,” Snape replied, with no move of explanation or defense. 

Hermione wanted to be cross with him, but she was depending on him to be her demonstrating partner next month. Besides, he was here offering her potentially good advice. If anything could be said for Severus Snape, the man didn’t mince words.

“I’m worried about exactly that issue,” Hermione finally offered. “The students I’ll be teaching? We were at school the same time. Some were even in my house when I was a Prefect."

“Exactly,” Snape nodded. “Filius doesn’t understand. He was a well established Charms Master in his forties when he arrived. He came with a certain cache that younger Professors do not.”

Hermione nodded, agreeing. Filius was lovely in so many ways but Snape was correct. He didn’t understand her anxiety. She was surprised when Snape continued talking.

“Most of _my_ senior classes consisted of students that had been peers only the year before. It made for a very stressful first term."

In truth, Hermione had never imagined Snape as a young man outside the stories Harry told her. He was simply a part of Hogwarts, as if he had been created solely to stalk the halls and deduct points. Imagining him as a human, anxious young man was fascinating. Hermione really knew so little of Snape that this snippet of personal information had her enraptured.

"What did you do?"

"I was very good at what I did," Snape said not without a trace of pride. "And I reminded them with at every opportunity that potions were as powerful as any spell."

"And that worked?"

"Often," Snape smirked. "And when it didn’t I deducted house points."

Hermione hadn't been expecting his amusing response and to her horror she barked out a sharp laugh in shock. Snape didn’t say anything cutting and she assumed her faux pas had been overlooked.

"I suppose you’re the perfect partner then,” Hermione offered with a shy smile. “Everyone respects you, especially since the war. If you can help me in my class they'll have to pay attention and it will show that I have the toughest professor on my side."

Snape had picked up his quill again. He raised a coal black brow in question.

“And how do you know I’m on _your_ side, Miss Granger?”

Immediately her face was pink, suffused with embarrassment at the sentiment he may well not agree with.

“Well,” Hermione grasped at something. “You haven’t hexed me yet.”

Snape gave her a small half smirk before going back to his marking.

“Give it time.”

***

Hermione was surprised when Snape sat next to her on the dais the following evening. There were no set seating arrangements for meals in the Great Hall, but still it felt strange to have him so close. She wondered if he were going to give her more advice or scold her on something she’d done. She realized she was often on edge with Snape, even years after being his student. He had a way about him, an energy that was frenzied as well as sharp. 

This close their arms almost touched and Hermione felt her heart gallop. He was so intimidating, even now sitting beside her and requesting a glass of wine. He took a liberal sip as soup appeared before them. Hermione raised her spoon, about to dig in when he finally spoke. 

"Why Charms?"

Hermione took a moment to mentally recover from his strange tangent. She had been expecting a ‘ _hello_ ’ or ‘ _how was your day_?’

"Pardon?"

"Why Charms instead of say, Transfiguration?" Snape was starting in on his meal, barely looking at her as he ate with gusto.

"Oh," Hermione lowered her spoon into her soup. "I suppose I've always had a natural affinity for charms. My favorite class was always Arithmancy but Charms was more challenging."

“You enjoy a challenge.” It was a flat statement, not a question.

“I suppose,” Hermione shrugged. They continued to eat in silence, punctuated only by laughing students or cries of indignation amongst the tables before he once again spoke out of nowhere.

"I always thought you showed great aptitude for Potions."

Hermione didn't know what to say to that. Since when did Snape think she was good at anything? Since when had he ever thought anything positive about her scholarly endeavors? Since when was Snape thoughtful about anything related to her?

Hermione could feel that her face wasn’t moving and her spoon was halfway to her mouth. She often did this when her mind was working faster than the rest of her. She lowered the spoon before turning her neck.

"But you were always coming down on me in classes."

"Not for substandard brewing," Snape replied, ripping apart a bun and spreading butter liberally onto it before dipping it into the soup.

“For what then?”

"For not allowing your classmates to learn."

Hermione felt her hackles rise at this. “How is being helpful not allowing my classmates to learn?”

Snape swallowed a particularly large piece of sopping bread before replying.

"How is telling Longbottom how to brew helpful?”

“He was my friend. He needed my help.”

“He became dependant on you. He didn't learn."

Hermione knew that she should stop the conversation there, but there were several years of pent up student frustration building within her chest.

"Because you were a bully. He was too afraid to ask you questions and to learn.”

"Your babying of him was of no great help," Snape shot back. His tone was light and Hermione was surprised to see that he didn't look overly fussed. In her younger years Snape would have been gritting his teeth and narrowing his glittering eyes.

_He's treating you like the adult you are._

"I think we can agree that neither of us did him any favors," Hermione finally relented. She didn't want to get on Snape's bad side, nor did she want to concede completely. This felt like middle ground. Snape must have agreed because he gave her a sharp nod.

“Agreed.”

Before Hermione could get used to the snarky man at her left being amiable he had stood and sauntered off the dais.

***

_Bueller’s goal is to tie the animal research, and the clues it yields about the bustling molecular machinery of the synapse, to the everyday human experience of remembering. Some experts think he is getting ahead of himself, especially when he makes connections between human memory and these findings in rats and other animals-_

Hermione sat in the library rubbing her eyes the next evening. She had been there for hours, skipping dinner entirely. She hadn’t meant to – she’d simply been too involved with her latest research into memory both Muggle and Magical. She wondered if Snape had noticed she wasn't there. But then again, why would he?

“There has to be something here,” she murmured to herself. She reached into the bag for a fresh quill when her hand bumped against an envelope she’d received that morning from Ron during breakfast. She’d shoved it into her bag, meaning to get to it later.

Now was as good a time as any. She quickly tore it open, scanning it and sighing dramatically. She brought out her own parchment, quill and with the ink remaining in her ink pot on the table she wrote back hurriedly.

_Honestly Ronald, I don’t know how you expect to be married for long if you keep running to me for advice before you’ve even walked the aisle. I’m even more pants at romance than you are!_

_I know that you don’t want to ask Harry for advice since he’s married to your sister and all, but isn’t there a mate on your Quidditch team that could help? I feel like your idea of romance and mine are vastly different._

_That being said, my suggestion for a honeymoon is somewhere beautiful, serene and with a great abundance of museums. To me, that makes for an enriching and memorable getaway._

_Love_

_Hermione_

_***_

Snape was doing his Thursday evening patrols and she was heading back to her room with an armful of books. She was distracted, only really realizing it was him when he spoke to her from the shadows.

“Some light reading?”

Hermione gave a squeak of surprise before dropping her books to the cool stone floor. With a frustrated sigh she bent over, surprised to see Snape striding over to help her as she gathered her books. She saw that he was scanning the titles. When they righted, Hermione shrunk the books with her wand put them in her pocket.

“I didn’t mean to startle,” he said by means of apology. Hermione realized he had a cup of coffee in his hand. Had he always drank and done patrols? Or was he simply taking a more relaxed approach to them?

“It wasn’t you,” Hermione insisted with a half smile. “I was distracted. Thinking about what I was reading.”

“Indeed,” he replied silkily. He stood looking down at her, scanning her face before she looked away. “It seems you’ve thrown yourself into your apprenticeship in much the same fashion you threw yourself into your studies as a student.”

“I suppose some things don’t change.” Hermione gave a shrug.

Again Snape’s probing eyes seemed to be searching her face. She dared a glance up at him only to find his glittering eyes now fixed upon his mug.

"I'm only surprised at the delay," Snape continued, sipping his coffee slowly and wincing. Apparently his neck still bothered him. Hermione glanced at it without thinking, her eyes darting up to meet his when he continued.

“Delay?”

"I thought by now you'd be finished your studies.” Another sip. “It’s been what, three years since you were last a student here?"

Hermione felt her stomach sinking.

“Yes.”

“And it would only have taken you less than a year to sit for your exam-“

All the hair on Hermione’s body stood straight, her blood cooling in her body. Before Snape could continue Hermione had run an uncomfortable hand through her hair and given him a wear smile.

“I just realized the time,” Hermione said, her voice wobbling. “I should really go. Goodnight Professor!”

She rushed past him at such a pace, her eyes filling. She didn’t even bother to see if he had heard her.

***

The Ministry was bustling when Hermione arrived, showing her guest badge and heading up to the Auror department. She was greeted at the entrance by a squat witch with glittering lavender eyes and a voice that reminded her of Kreacher.

“Name?”

“Granger, Hermione. I’m here to see Harry Potter.”

The witch nodded, writing something down in her parchment. She motioned to the chairs at the left of the foyer.

“Wait to the side, please.”

Hermione nodded before taking her seat. Her mind was on earlier that week and her strangely stressful conversation with Snape. She hadn’t meant to run from him – she worried she must have looked like a nutter.

All thoughts were pushed to the back of her mind when Harry exited the department, coming around the corner with a large smile and a hug. Hermione allowed herself to be gathered into a hug, inhaling the familiar, safe scent of Harry.

She leaned back, regarding him fondly. How much he had grown in the past three years. He was no longer the teenage pseudo-brother. He was a man now, a man who would soon be a father. Her heart jumped in tender joy for him. As if feeling her maternal scrutiny, Harry’s hand absently went to ruffle his hair.

“Ready for Lunch?”

“Oh yes!”

They walked down the long corridor, surprised to see the activity of Level two. Hermione couldn’t help but pick up snatches of conversation.

_“Werewolf population and-“_

_“—is out of control!”_

_“—Do you reckon he’ll accept the position?”_

“What’s going on?” Hermione whispered, her curiosity piqued.

“You know I can’t tell you,” Harry said with affection as they made their way into the canteen. “But I can tell you that we’re on top of it.”

Hermione nodded, trying her best not to ask more questions. She knew that Harry took his job very seriously.

“Just think, you’ll be here someday soon,” Harry mused, glancing around the bustling space as they walked. “Care of Magical Creatures, wasn’t it?”

“That’s what I’m hoping,” Hermione nodded. “We’ll see.”

“Is it still what you want?”

“Yes,” Hermione answered after a moment of thought. “I think so.”

Moments later they were sitting across from one another, diving into a fresh batch of fish and chips. Hermione wiped the grease from her fingers as she told Harry all about her classes.

“I’m still a bit worried the students won’t take me seriously when Filius isn’t there.”

“They will,” Harry nodded sagely. “I know it.”

Hermione smiled gently, taking a sip of her water. They lapsed into a thoughtful silence before a familiar pair of dark eyes filtered into her subconscious.

“Professor Snape had some good advice.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yes,” Hermione took another sip of her water and began detailing her meeting with Snape. Harry listened on, surprisingly engaged. In the past he had quickly shunned off all talk of Snape. Even after the trial he seemed reticent to talk about the man who had admitted an undying affection for Harry’s dead mother. 

“I have to admit, that’s good advice,” Harry said, taking another bite of the crispy battered fish. Hermione regarded her friend as he chewed, looking thoughtful.

“I’m surprised you appear to be on his side so quickly,” she mused.

“Yeah well, couple months back we had a talk,” Harry said casually. Hermione’s fork clattered onto her plate.

“You and _Snape_?”

“ _Professor_ Snape,” Harry teased with a smile. “He owled me back in August. Asked to meet for a drink at some muggle pub. Wanted to talk about things, specifically to thank me for my defense at the trial.”

Hermione could have been knocked over by a feather. The same man who screamed at Hermione for keeping him alive had gone out of his way to thank Harry Potter for his defense at the trial?

“Yeah,” Harry gave a crooked smile at Hermione’s silent disbelief. “Hard to believe, eh? But he did. And he wanted to talk about my Mum. Wanted to explain that she was the first friend he ever had. That she was the only one who admired him and his magical talent when they were young.”

Hermione felt her heart break at that sentiment. Hadn’t she felt much the same when Harry and Ron had been cruel to her in their first year? Hadn’t she clung to that friendship so desperately? Hadn’t she rushed to Hagrid for some semblance of friendship when they weren’t speaking to her?

But Snape, who would he have run to if Lily was his only friend?

“He explained that he loved my mom in much the same way I love you,” Harry went on, his cheeks pinking at the mention of such a soppy sentiment. “That he confused it with romantic love because he’d never known the difference.”

The world shifted slightly then, as Hermione realized she knew so little of Snape. Yes, she knew the bitter, withdrawn teacher of her school years. She had glimpses of the man he was today. But he was still such a mystery.

“Then he apologized for being such a prat to me during school,” Harry concluded. “Said I reminded him of all the bad times.”

“And you forgave him?”

“Of course,” Harry said quickly. “Why shouldn’t I? He’s changed, Hermione.”

The subject swiftly changed to Ginny and her hormones and how Harry was convinced she was going to hex him in their sleep. Hermione was quiet for the rest of lunch, her mind on what Harry said about Snape and if there was any truth to it.

***

It was rubbish. All of it.

She had been studying this particularly ancient book from the restricted section and it was absolute bullocks. The large table she had commandeered for herself was covered in notes, slashes of ink and angrily balled up parchment.

Muggle Memory and Magical Memory had such diametrically opposing opinions and no matter what she did, they continued to contradict one another. This latest charm had promised a bridge between the two and failed spectacularly. What was worse, was that after four hours she was no further than when she had started.

The library, once full of quietly chattering students was now completely empty. It would only be a matter of time before Pince snidely remarked on the lateness of the hour. Hermione rubbed at her eyes, turning her head to the large window at the far side of the library.

The windows showcased a night full of stars, indicating the quick passing of time. The days were slipping by and with it, time. Hermione’s heart raced with anxiety and frustration. Angry tears had begun at the corner of her eyes and she knew that sobs were on their way if she didn’t act quickly.

She couldn’t help it. Without thinking she had cracked her quill in half and thrown it across the table. It made an unsatisfying floating motion before falling on the far side of the table. She took a liberal sniff, insisting that the tears stop streaming down her face. 

"Perhaps you should take a break before you break something more valuable." 

Hermione felt her entire body go red with shame. She hadn't known that anyone else was in the library this late, aside from Pince of course. But she was usually busy cataloging at this time. Hermione tried in vain to hide her splotchy face and red-rimmed eyes from Snape as he walked over to her, book in hand. A quick perusal of the title showed that he was reading something on Arithmancy.

"What are you doing here?" Hermione snapped grouchily. 

"Playing Quidditch obviously," he replied drolly. "I might ask why _you_ are here, throwing a tantrum." 

Hermione bit the inside of her cheek. She was normally an open book, happy to talk about feelings as easy as she was to talk about battle strategies and Transfiguration. But this? With Snape of all people? This she didn’t want to unload on anyone. Especially if that someone was prone to barbed comments and judgemental observations. She decided to skim the subject when he made no move to leave from the side of the table. 

"I'm just so irritated," Hermione said, wiping at her damp eyes with the back of her hand. "I've been studying this ruddy memory charm for weeks and none of it makes sense."

“That’s hardly cause for breaking your quill,” Snape observed. “You’ve been given academic challenges before, have you not?”

_You don’t understand. Just go away. I’m a horrible person. Go Go Go._

"It’s not just that!” Hermione insisted, swallowing the sob that threatened to rip from her throat.

"What is it, then?"

"You wouldn’t understand!" 

Unable to control herself, she lowered her head to the table, feeling supremely sorry for herself. She waited for Snape’s footsteps to shuffle away from her. To her surprise she could hear the chair next to hers being pulled back and the unmistakable scent of parchment and soil.

"You've always been an eager student," Snape spoke softly, but without his usual menace. "But this frenzied desperation is odd, even for you." 

Hermione shrugged, still not moving her head from the table. She just wanted him to go. She hated that he was seeing her like this. 

_I am not going to cry in front of him. Not again._

"Why this rush?" Snape questioned as he pulled out the chair across from her at the table and sitting down. "You know better than most that mastering anything takes time and study and immense practice." 

"But I don't have any more _time_!" Hermione wailed, bringing her head up from the table sharply. 

"Shhhhh!" 

Madame Pince had appeared out of nowhere, shelving books and shooting the two of them a look of irritation. The two gave her a nod of acknowledgement and she shuffled away, muttering about rudeness. They waited to continue until she was out of earshot. 

"Miss Granger," Snape spoke in a soft tone that commanded an answer. "What are you on about? What's this nonsense about time?"

Hermione couldn't tell him. It was too private, too personal. She felt raw and ugly and wanted him to leave her. And yet she met his gaze, surprised to see a softness in his tunnel-like eyes. He was such a strong figure and bring this clothes with normally have her frightened to speak. But right now he was seeing her at her worst, emotional and unencumbered by fear.

_Just go! You’re supposed to be enjoying your life! Not listening to some sniveling former student!_

In that moment Hermione wondered; with all she had put Snape through, could she truly shut him out? Didn’t she owe him something of her _own_ pain after all she’d heaped upon him by keeping him alive? Did he still hate her for it? Did he wake up every morning hating life?

"Is it really awful? Being alive?" Hermione blurted, her voice still low enough not to carry in the quiet library. 

The thoughts had been circling her brain since she had arrived back at Hogwarts and now she needed to know the answer more than anything. Snape was so still he could be a statue. Hermione had the strongest urge to grip his hand to see if it were warm. She searched his face, trying to convey with body language that she was sorry and yet like the needy student, desperate for his approval.

"Did I do the right thing that night in the shack?" she whispered. “Please. Please tell me the truth.” F

or the first time since she had known him, she believed Snape to have been taken aback by her. He blinked rapidly a moment, his brows raising a fraction. He stared harshly at her and Hermione felt suffocated under his heavy gaze. Had she gone too far? Had she pushed him? He folded his hands on the table, much like a scholar preparing to deliver a profound and lengthy speech. 

"I am glad you found me that night."

It was enough.

Hermione felt the tears fighting for a chance to escape and yet she tamped them down with a sharp bite to her lower lip. He had been so forthright and honest. Was Harry right? Had Professor Snape changed? Had he not just been vulnerable with her? Did he not deserve the same from her? With a resolute sigh she faced him, her eyes landing on his ridiculous nose. His eyes were far too intimidating. 

“You asked me earlier why I took so long to return to my studies,” Hermione said, her finger tracing along a scratch in the wood of the table.

Snape said nothing, but seemed to notice the change in demeanor for his head tilted slightly to the side as he regarded her. It was the look of an active listener, of someone interested in what she had to say.

"I had to find my parents," Hermione finally choked out.

"Oh?"

"They were harder to track down then I thought,” Hermione explained before realizing he likely had no idea what she was talking about. “Before Harry and Ron and I left to hunt Horcruxes, I modified their memories and sent them to Australia in case.... _You know who_ tried to get to me by hurting them. I didn't want to take a chance."

Snape’s face was unreadable, but she did notice the way his knuckles stood out as he clenched his fist upon the table at the mention of Voldemort.

"That's was very... _tenacious_ of you, Miss Granger."

“It was all I could think of to do.” Hermione shrugged the sentiment away. “And after the war I went back to Australia to retrieve them and reverse the memory charm. I searched for months for them, always coming up on a dead end. Because I had wanted them as safe as possible there was no way of tracking them using magic and I was devastated. By chance I found someone who'd sold them tickets to Wellington in New Zealand. I should have known, they'd always talked of visiting there. Seems even with a modified memory they still had the same desires for travel."

Snape was still listening and Hermione could see his eyes narrowing in thought. He knew exactly what she was about to say – he was a very powerful and knowledgeable wizard after all.

"As you undoubtedly know, modifying or erasing memories is quite easy compared to trying to reinstate them." Hermione was embarassed to feel her throat closing ever so slightly. She coughed to open it.

"It took six months of reading and researching before I tried everything I felt comfortable casting. Memory charms, potions, spells. Anything. But I was so worried that I’d do further damage and so I stopped even though I was devastated.”

Snape continued to say nothing, but his eyes were glued to her now downcast face.

"I couldn't just leave them again so I took a year off. I wanted it to just be the three of us again." Hermione’s sorrow had been replaced with a forced smile. "But they didn’t know who I was. I couldn’t even hug them and explain how sorry I was. So I rented a nearby flat and became consumed with this memory project. But every book I consulted, every professional I contacted told me the same thing: their memories had been modified too long. They were gone."

The tears were threatening to fall so severely she took a full moment to compose herself, thankful that Snape wasn’t an overly emotional figure who would insist on hugging her or cooing soothing phrases. Instead he waited, his hands still folded patiently on the table.

“I couldn’t give up though. But I knew that I couldn’t do it by myself and I knew that I didn’t have the connections that other Charms masters would. So I wrote to Filius with the hope that he could help me. He tried his best for almost a year to find a safe memory charm or someone in his field that would help.”

“And?”

“He came to much the same conclusion as everyone else. It was a lost cause. But when he saw I was never going to give up, he offered me an apprenticeship. He said I was very clever and would benefit from more knowledge on the topic if I was going to continue. So I very gratefully agreed and here I am. And my parents as of right now are very happy and very settled in New Zealand.”

“And the rest of the staff?” Snape said quietly. “Do they-“

“No,” Hermione shook her head quickly from side to side. “The last thing I need is pity or well meaning platitudes. It’s bad enough that Ron and Harry are babying me about it. I already have more unwanted attention than most witches. The last thing I need is more people fussing over this as well.”

“Yet you told _me_ ,” Snape observed wryly.

“Because I know you won’t pity me,” Hermione replied without thinking.

“You’re very correct.”

The two sat in silence a little longer, Snape drinking his tea and Hermione diving back into her book. She felt it almost companionable to sit with someone, to sit in her feelings without having to explain them at length. Snape’s hands unfolded abruptly and she could feel him turning to face her fully.

"I'm sorry for your loss, Hermione."

Hermione was taken aback at the use of her first name coming from him. She was even more shocked when a pale hand with long fingers moved across the table to cover her right wrist.

His hand was surprisingly warm and soft. No calluses or scars to be seen. After everything he had been through there was still a softness to him. For some reason that made her heart seize. 

Snape was lost like she was. His life confusing. His world not the same. And yet here he was trying to comfort her. Her eyes darted to his face, but his features began to blur as the tears begin to well up in her eyes. She was going to cry.

Apparently unaccustomed to such a display emotion Snape pulled his hand back quickly, as if burnt.

"Good evening."

She watched him stalk off, his book forgotten on the table.

It was in that moment that Hermione realized she may just be friends with Severus Snape.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Only one more chapter after this ! (I promise !)

After that moment in the library, something changed between Hermione and Snape. Hermione was no longer as intimidated by him. After that tender touch of his hand upon her wrist he had appeared to her kind and perhaps even gentle. 

Like a strange spell had been broken, a friendship was born though neither outwardly mentioned it.

It started casually, with Hermione choosing to sit next to Snape during the next day’s staff meeting. She wrote notes in her small notebook and caught Snape smirking at overzealous attention to what Minerva was spouting, from the corner of her eye. Her heart pounded, cautious that even this slight familiarity might set him off.

She was even more surprised that evening when he reciprocated by sitting next to her on the dais that evening for supper.

“What books have you read on the subject we discussed last night?” Snape enquired under his breath as he dug into his dinner. 

“Books?” 

“Yes, those things with pages? I assume you’ve read all that Filius has on the subject,” Snape concluded with a frown at his wine. “And everything within the restricted section.”

“Yes,” Hermione managed. She turned slightly in her seat so that she could better face him. But Snape still remained seated forward, his attention still obviously on his dinner.

“Have you read others?”

“Yes,” Hermione nodded, thinking to the various tomes she’d read during the year she was abroad with her parents. “Everything from _An Anthology of Eighteenth Century Charms_ to present day publications. Nothing I found told me memory modification was reversible after a three month period. And they were over a year.”

Her chin trembled and she quickly raised her water goblet to her mouth to hide it. If Snape saw this, he didn’t remark on it. 

“Miranda Goshawk’s advanced books as well?”

“Of course,” Hermione nodded, pressing her fork into her boiled potatoes. “I read heaps of Muggle literature as well, but that hasn’t been very helpful either.”

“It’s likely not to be,” Snape assured. “A magical charm will have a magical counter-charm. You said last night that you researched potions as well?” 

“I did,” Hermione nodded. “But it was hard to find anything I could make myself. And from what I did glean, as its a modification charm, a potion would very likely not be any use.” “But not impossible,” Snape mused, looking thoughtfully at her. Hermione felt her heart jump at his words. Severus Snape was not one to mince words. 

“So you think there’s hope?” Hermione knew she sounded eager, but she couldn’t help it.

Snape inclined his head, his dark eyes sliding onto her face. “Hope is all any of us have left at times.” 

Hermione nodded, turning back to her unappetizing meal of roast beef and boiled potatoes. She hadn’t much of an appetite these days. And Snape’s cryptic comment wasn’t much of a confidence builder. 

“I might have a few books that may be of interest,” Snape said casually, as if he weren’t extending an olive branch for his years of teaching torment. 

“Oh,” Hermione knew she sounded daft. But Snape’s willingness to share his possessions surprised her. 

“I shall bring them tomorrow evening,” Snape continued, his eyes on his plate. The two lapsed into their customary thoughtful silence. As always, Snape finished and abruptly stood. He gave her a small head nod as he swept past her chair, presumably heading to his chambers. 

As he said, the following evening several books of Memory and charms were left for her at her place upon the dais. Snape was nowhere to be seen, but a note in his familiar spidery writing greeted her. 

_Hermione,_ _These books are very valuable and very rare. No dog-earring, tea stains or cracked spines will be condoned. Do not let the others know you have them within your possession. If so, I will be badgered to lend out my entire library and my subsequent ire will fall solely on yourself._ _If you find something of value within them, give me notice promptly._ \- _S_

Hermione tapped them with her wand and they shrunk quickly. She tucked the books into her pocket, sure to hide the smirk that crossed her features.

*** 

Despite the age of the books and the knowledge within, nothing in them were really that helpful to Hermione’s predicament, but she was touched nonetheless. However, she did not tell Severus her lack of progress. She thought that if she did, it would somehow be seen as rebuffing his kindness. And having Severus kind to her was a strangely soothing balm to her soul.

Instead, in the following weeks, the two met in the staff room each Thursday evening before the fire, sipping wine and going over what she’d read in the books he’d lent her. Sometimes she’d bring biscuits and they would read and sip tea for hours in silence. Once he’d bring a potion to help with her headaches, wordlessly placing it on the arm of her chair. 

“You’ll need glasses soon,” he chided as she squinted at a note she’d written earlier. 

“Hush you,” she said with false irritation. “I’m perfectly fine.” 

But she of course tipped the small phial back, swallowing the sweet cherry-tasting concoction and sighing softly when the tension in her head abated. Snape smiled, opening his own book. Soon it was Thursday and Saturday evenings they found each other there, and they weren’t just talking about Memory charms.

It was on things Snape was working on in his defense classroom – _not as many dunderheads as there were in your year_ \- and how Hermione was faring with her apprenticeship. “Filius is quite brilliant but a hard man to discuss with,” Hermione offered after a thoughtful nibble of a chocolate biscuit.

“He’s rather firm in his beliefs and doesn’t enjoy alternate ideas of performing his charms.”

“He is rather old,” Snape said with a shrug. “Set in his ways after teaching so long.”

“Well _you’re_ not set in your ways,” Hermione frowned, glancing over at him. 

If anything, Snape was forever readjusting his curriculum with all the recent findings. Hermione knew this because he told of his adaptations when his _Potions Quarterly_ arrived last week. Snape was in a comfortable pose, one ankle over his knee and a book nestled upon his lap. His features were soft in the firelight as he quirked a brow in her direction.

“Are you suggesting that _I’m_ old?”

“Oh no!” Hermione felt her face go red. “Never! You don’t look any different then when I first met you! I just meant that you’ve taught a long time as well, and you’re always open to learning and changing. It’s one of the things I respect most about you.”

Snape looked uncomfortable and he sat up a bit in his chair. Hermione continued, unfettered by this. 

“I know the only reason you agreed to help me with my demonstration at the end of the month was because you care about inspiring students. Just like you inspired all of us with your speech, our first day of classes.”

Hermione was transported then, to a classroom of darkness and chill. Of the sight of a tall, ferocious looking man sweeping in and promising in a honeyed tone that they could brew glory. She’d never forgotten it.

It was strange because sitting to her right was the very same man and yes, he was still ferocious in many ways and yes his honeyed tone still remained. But he was different… Changed. 

“Why do you care so much about this demonstration?” Snape asked, obviously keen to change the subject. “You came to Filius to teach you of memory. Why bother with anything else?”

“Because I’m still his apprentice,” Hermione responded dutifully. “And what I learn here, helpful to my parents or not, is still an education that I take seriously. If I’m unable to help my parents, I still need to make a living. I need to keep them comfortable. So I’ll get a position within the Ministry and my galleons will pay for their living.”

Snape peered at her. “But why go to all this trouble of a demonstration? Why not just keep status quo?”

“That’s not really my style, is it?” Hermione smiled toothily. She was delighted when Snape returned the smile and she could just make out the smallest peek at his crooked incisors as he replied. 

“No, I suppose it’s not.”

***

As time went on, their friendship seemed to bloom, its petals unfurling slowly like a rare flower. If the other Professors noticed, none said anything.

Minerva was helpful and directive when it came to Hermione and her questions. Filius was an endless fountain of knowledge when it came to Charms. Pomona gave her a beautiful Moly flower when she realized she’d missed Hermione’s September birthday. 

It felt like a small, loving family. In Hermione’s letters to Harry and Ron she mentioned the change in Snape. How their friendship had been borne out of a mutual desire for knowledge and to put the past behind them. 

She didn’t tell them more – of the Thursday evening talks (which had now gone up to three times a week) or how he seemed to be more relaxed around her with each passing day. 

In the hallways when they passed one another, Snape often nodded to her as he continued walking and she beamed at him. Once in a while, a small curl would start at the edge of his mouth at her reaction to him. 

He called her Hermione and she called him Severus. It was strange and wonderful.

At dinner he would sit next to her and they would talk about their day. Sometimes they made plans to meet later, other times they simply ate in companionable silence. Severus stopped missing meals and Hermione was sure to save him a place, just in case he was late. It quickly became the highlight of her day.

"Perhaps I could help you with a demonstration in _your_ class," Hermione offered with a smile one evening as they tucked into their ham dinners. "As a thank you for your upcoming help."

"I'd prefer a bottle of Ogden's as thank you," Snape quipped, looking at his wine glass chagrined. "The wine this year is horrid."

Hermione giggled at that, but made a mental note. Two days later there was a bottle of Ogden's waiting for him at his office desk with a bright crimson bow. 

Snape mentioned that his back was sore from demonstrating a particularly painful defensive move in class and the next day there was a bottle of muscle salve from the nearest apothecary at his desk.

One evening, Hermione was on her way to the library to do more research when she felt a hand envelop and tug at her wrist. As she gave a sharp yelp she was dragged quickly behind the statue of the one-eyed witch, Gunhilda de Gorsemoor.

Her wand was immediately out and she was surprised to find Snape at the end of it, inches from her face and looming. Not in a formidable fashion, but in a way that suggested urgency and a bit of anxiety. His forehead was crinkled in consternation as she lowered her wand.

"You must cease with these gifts," he said, his breath buffeting her forehead. Hermione was vaguely aware of the fact that he still hadn’t dropped her wrist. He held it tightly between them. "They're unnecessary. You don't owe me anything." 

Hermione wondered idly if he could feel her thrumming pulse under his tapered fingers. Her eyes fell to his mouth, the familiar slopes set in a firm line. 

"But I _like_ buying gifts for you," she explained, suddenly very aware of his proximity. "I know you don't enjoy going out in public."

He was so close to her that’s she could feel the physical warmth of his body radiating against her own. 

"It's not necessary," Snape repeated, though this time more softly. It seemed he realized the grip he had on her and quickly dropped her wrist. It fell to her hip as if boneless. Hermione could still feel the warmth of his palm and the smoothness of his fingers.

"It's what _friends_ do," Hermione insisted hotly. "And you're _my_ friend." 

Snape blinked rapidly at that, as if the idea had never crossed his mind. She could see him mentally taking stock of all their moments together this past month and realizing that they did in fact fall under the category of 'friend'. 

"Now, if you don't mind, I need to do some more research," Hermione sniffed. " _Friend_."

She parted from him quickly, trying not to laugh at the way Snape stared after her in confusion.

*** 

The weekend leading up to the demonstration, Hermione found herself inside Madame Malkin’s with Ginny and Luna, looking for the perfect wedding dress. They had already been to three shops out in London, but Luna had insisted a quick stop into this stop to end their Sunday.

They’d been greeted with champagne and guided over to the far edge of the shop where Hermione and Ginny were seated on a plush purple velvet chaise lounge, waiting for the bride-to-be to try on the first dress. Ginny looked longingly at the champagne glass in Hermione’s hand.

“I feel I’ve been pregnant forever,” Ginny moaned, her head falling back in dejection.

“Only five months to go!” Hermione said, hiding her glass and trying to look upbeat. “Five months and you’ll have a beautiful daughter or son.”

“A son, I’m sure of it,” Ginny grouched. “I’m a Weasley aren’t I? We all know it’ll be a boy. A red-headed boy who, with my luck, will be just as annoying as Percy and mischievous as Fred and George combined.”

Hermione gave her friend’s hand a small rub.

“Or, he’ll be handsome as Bill and as brave as Charlie,” Hermione reasoned. “And perhaps he’ll have dark hair like Harry!”

Ginny stared wistfully into middle distance, her thoughts dreamily wound up in this proposed child.

“I’d like that.”

Luna stepped out from behind the curtains and walked to the small platform before the mirrors. In much the same way she did robe fitting, Madame Malkin was behind Luna looking at all the parts that would need adjusting.

The dress was plain and came to Luna’s ankles. It had large sleeves and lace around the waistline.

“Are you two enjoying yourselves?” Luna asked, twirling in her dress.

“Oh yes,” Hermione said, slanting a grin at Ginny. “Just reminding Mrs Potter that soon this will all be over and she’ll have a squealing newborn to contend with.”

Ginny gave a good-natured groan and the girls giggled as Luna disappeared behind the curtain once more. Madame Malkin stood, waiting like a sentry. Luna appeared moments later, dressed in head to toe with bubbling looking fabric that completely swallowed her.

She stood on the platform as Madame Malkin adjusted it. Her protuberant eyes searching the mirror until they found Hermione’s reflection.

“You seem different, Hermione.”

“Oh?”

“You seem… _happier_.”

Ginny was shaking her head with displeasure at this dress and Luna shook her head in agreement. She disappeared behind the mirror with Madame Malkin promising that the next one would be even better.

“She's right you know. You looked so nervous the last time we saw you,” Ginny agreed. “But now? You look more relaxed.”

“I…. I suppose I am.”

Immediately her mind went to Snape and of their late night conversations. Of their smiles in the corridors. Unknown to her, a small smile curled the edges of her mouth.

“Actually it looks like more than just relaxed to me,” Ginny said knowledgeably. “Seems like you might fancy someone.”

Immediately Hermione’s face blanched at the thought as if she had been caught. Hermione knew that Ginny was way off base. How she felt about Snape was nothing romantic. He was a friend – a friend she had never expected to have. A friendship she had come to cherish.

“Why do you say that, Ginny?”

“You have that same far-off look Luna gets when she talks about Ron.”

“She always has a far-off look,” Hermione huffed quietly, hoping the soon-to-be-bride wouldn’t overhear. “That’s just how Luna looks.”

As if on cue Luna appeared from behind the mirrors, stepping to the podium with a dreamy smile. She wore a bright orange crocheted dress that came to her ankles and only her face and arms poked out. Along the bust were bows of different orange shades. On her hands she wore orange gloves and on her feet she wore green boots.

To Hermione she looked like a rather enormous carrot. Luna twirled rapidly, smiling in the mirror before stopping and surveying her two shocked friends.

“What do you think of this one? Madame Malkin thinks it should be white, but I’ve always been partial to orange.”

***

Hermione felt strange the next morning when Snape took a seat next to her. His coffee smelt delicious but Hermione felt she couldn’t eat in front of him.

Ginny’s words were haunting her and Hermione was furious for it. Only yesterday Snape had been her friend, her confidante. Now he was a man she may secretly fancy and that thought unsettled her. It made things complicated. 

_No. I don’t fancy him. He’s just my friend!_

Snape didn’t seem to notice the change, munching on toast and making various observations about the upcoming Hogsmeade weekend. She took a moment to survey him from beneath her fringe.

_He’s older than me, and not that handsome. He’s sarcastic and quite quick to temper. I don’t fancy him, I just enjoy that he treats me like an equal. He doesn’t pity me like so many others. And he’s brilliant and I can have a good conversation with him. That’s all._

Hermione felt that this sorted everything logically and she didn’t realize she’d spoken a firm “Yes of course!” to herself until she saw Snape’s raised brow in her direction.

Thankfully the awkward tension broke as the cries of several owls sounded overhead. The students squealed and cheered as packages came tumbling from the sky, landing on tables and in eager hands.

Hermione and Snape glanced up as a weathered looking owl came in their direction before dropping off several envelopes for Hermione. Suddenly relieved that there was something else to focus on, Hermione felt herself relax.

She gathered the envelopes, scanning through them; one from Harry, one from Ron and one from Madame Malkin. Likely informing Hermione that the dress she’d ordered for the wedding would be ready soon. There was also a small black envelope with a handwriting she didn’t recognize.

"You've received more missives in your first few months here than I have ever received in my entire tenure," Snape observed, taking a sip of coffee and opening up his newly delivered newspaper

Hermione gave him a wry smile before opening the first envelope. Snape must have scanned the name because she felt his words at the side of her temple.

"Weasley."

“Mmmm.”

“Love letters I presume?” Snape's mouth was thinned.

Hermione looked up from the note, puzzled. “Love letters?”

"Isn't that what besotted youth do?" Snape was aggressively salting his food. "Send syrupy messages back and forth?"

"I couldn't say," Hermione shrugged. "I'll have to ask Luna and find out. He wants my advice on his wedding vows and he's completely pants at anything romantic. I don't know why he thought I'd be any help, I'm even more hopeless than he is."

Snape's face revealed nothing but he gave a nod and went back to his coffee. 

“When is the happy union?”

“Sometime in late May,” Hermione replied absently. “They've gone to great lengths to keep it out of the paper. Privacy and all that. But that just means Ron keeps pestering me with silly questions. Perhaps I should tell him to get a poetry book?”

“Couldn’t hurt.”

Hermione went back to her letters, her interest piqued when a small black envelope with red script greeted her. She had never seen anything like it and she couldn’t think of whom it could be from. Severus however – still obviously watching over her shoulder – had an answer immediately.

“That looks like a missive from Tenzin.”

Hermione inclined her head slightly to regard the man to her left. She was so distracted by the letter in her hand, she didn't notice he'd leaned over, his breath whispering against her cheek.

“Who?”

“A famously reclusive yet esteemed Charms master in the far east,” Snape mused through a thinned mouth. “He’s well over three hundred years old.”

Hermione’s prodigious mind went whirring within her head. She had read everything on charms and never come across this name.

“How have I never read of him?”

“He’s notoriously private and goes by many names. Won’t allow his photograph taken or give interviews. It seems Filius has been working hard on your behalf. If anyone can help your parents, it’s Tenzin.”

_There’s hope!_

Hermione felt her heart soar at this. There was hope for her parents yet! She opened the letter, immediately concerned with the unfamiliar language.

With anticipatory trembling fingers she searched for her wand, but Snape was too fast. Already he was mumbling and running the tip of his rowan wand over the inky green letters. They quickly transformed into English and Hermione devoured them.

_Hermione Granger,_

_I have heard of your predicament. This is a most rare case and after many months of private research and experimentation, I am saddened to share that there is no charm that can aid your parents. The modification has been left too long. I am sorry to deliver this news to you._

_Thank you for all you have done to keep our world safe._

_Tenzin._

Without missing a beat Hermione had turned to face Snape. For a spy, he was remarkably easy to read at this moment. His eyes were soft and staring at her with a mixture of pity and defeat.

Hermione felt bile rising in the back of her throat and she quickly swallowed, focusing her breathing to return to normal. Her heart was pounding and she felt the Great Hall with all its chattering students was far too loud.

She closed her eyes tightly a moment, breathing slowly in and out. With a shaky smile she opened her eyes and turned to face Snape once more. He was still staring at her, his coffee untouched.

“Well Thursday is the demonstration,” she said, impressed with the way she kept her voice from wavering. “I suppose we should talk about strategy.”

“Hermione, I’m sorry-“

“I know we discussed starting with protego,” Hermione continued, unable to stop herself. “And I think that was a brilliant idea. Let’s focus on defensive charms.”

“You need to-“

“You don’t know what I need,” Hermione snapped, her dark eyes blazing.

She knew she had never spoken like that to him and it showed in the surprised twitch of his brow. Immediately the softness in his eyes was gone, replaced with a flinty mask that he wore for most everyone else.

“Very well.”

Regret suffused her as her newest friend began to withdraw into himself. He raised his coffee cup to his mouth, sipping generously. 

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, aware that her voice sounded choked. “I just-“

“It’s no matter.”

His voice was low and silken and Hermione noticed his right hand was in a curled fist on the table. His pale knuckles stood out sharply against the dark grain of the wood. 

Withought thinking Hermione slid her hand over those straining knuckles, not deterred when he flinched away from her.

“Please forgive me, Severus.”

A long suffering sigh was followed by a sharp head nod.

“Of course.”

***

That Thursday, Hermione stood at the front of the class, finishing their textbook review, as per Filius’ instruction. They looked bored and some whispered behind their books. She was anxious they were laughing at her.

When would Snape be here? The plan was for him to show up fifteen minutes into class.

As if on cue a knock sounded at the door and Hermione felt her body flood with relief.

“Come in!”

Hermione expected him to come sailing into the classroom glowering at everyone. Instead of looking forbidding and miserable as he normally did, he simply looked bored. 

“You’re here.”

“Indeed,” Snape said flatly.

Hermione felt her pulse quicken anxiously. After the previous days’ awkward breakfast, she felt so wrong-footed around him, and now having his attention directed at her she felt suffocated by his endless black eyes.

“Class we have a surprise today,” Hermione said, forcing a wide smile onto her face as she turned to face the eager Fifth Year charm students. “As this is the year you begin taking your O.W.L.’s, today we are going to learn Defensive Charms with a bit of duelling.”

A great whoop went around, quickly losing steam as Snape sent a severe look around the classroom. Hermione licked her lips, took a deep sigh and then smiled broadly at Snape.

“Professor Snape, I thought we might start out with the basics.”

Snape nodded in agreement before shrugging off his outer cloak and placing it on a nearby chair. To Hermione’s surprise, Snape also removed his frock coat, leaving him in trousers and a linen shirt. With practiced effeciently, he efficiently rolled the sleeves up to the elbow.

The effect, rather than making him appear weaker without his armour, instead had the opposite effect. Everyone could see the faded dark mark upon his forearm as he brandished his wand.

Hermione couldn’t help but be flustered at the action. She hadn’t seen him without his robe and frock coat since… that night in the hospital. The sight now was a far cry from that experience, and yet it put her off her game.

His long limbed stride advanced, as did hers and the two met somewhere in between the blackboard and her desk. She could see the glittering dark of his eyes, momentarily distracted by the length and fullness of his eyelashes.

“Yes, well,” Hermione cleared her throat. She too held her wand, gripping it a bit more tightly now. She cast a ghost of a smile at the watching students. “The start of any proper duel begins with respect. You must always bow to your opponent.”

She turned, holding her wand at her breastbone. Snape did the same and simeltaneously the bowed lowly at one another. In duelling, the lower the bow, the more respect one had for their opponent. Hermione was delighted to note that Snape matched her low bow, bending at the waist.

“Now as you are in fifth year, you are undoubtedly familiar with many introductory spells like Fire Making and Severing Charms.”

“ _Yes Professor Granger_ ,” the class chorused.

“One of the most important charms one can learn and use is Protego,” Hermione continued, her eyes dancing along the faces of her students. “Who can tell me what a Protego charm does?”

A small boy with wide eyes had his arm in the air immediately. Hermione had barely called his name – _Olliver Ghast_ – when he began speaking at a high velocity.

“It’s a shielding charm! It creates an Invisible shield that reflects spells and blocks physical entities.”

“Very well done,” Hermione nodded before turning her attention back to Snape. “Professor Snape, if you wouldn’t mind?”

Snape nodded, twisting his wand and speaking loudly.

“ _Incendio Maximus_!”

Immediately a ball of fire went sailing across the room at Hermione. The students in the first row could feel the heat from the spell.

“ _Protego_!”

Immediately the invisible shield surrounded Hermione and the fireball diminished. Hermione smiled toothily at Snape, delighted at how well that had gone.

The students clapped, their eyes wide. Hermione and Snape repeated the action, this time with Snape on the defensive. Again the clapping continued, this time a bit more animated.

Hermione gave a knowing nod which Snape returned. It was time to see what happened when a Protego wasn’t used. Snape raised his wand in her direction, his eyes trained on her face.

_“Rictusempra!”_

Hermione felt the magic go through her, as if a million feathers were tickling her entire body. She let out a scream of laughter, twitching about.

“As you can see, professor Granger has been hit by the _Rictusempra hex_ ,” Snape said cooly, his eyes scanning the classroom. “It is normally used as what?”

“A distractoin tactic!” shouted Olliver from the front, too excited to raise his hand.

Hermione tried to say something, but she couldn’t stop laughing. Tears were starting at the corner of her eyes.

“Correct,” Snape replied evenly, although it was evident to everyone that Olliver was slowly getting on the man’s nerve. Snape turned back to Hermione who was now kneeling on the ground.

“ _Finite Incantaum_.”

Immediately the laughter ceased and Snape bent over, offering his hand to help her to stand. Hermione glared up at him from under her thick fringe.

“I thought we agreed to a color change charm?” she hissed, sure not to be overheard.

A smirk started at the corner of his mouth. “You wanted their attention.”

“Too right.” Hermione accepted his hand and the two stood. Immediately however her wand was out and pointing at Snape’s head. “ _Colovaria!”_

The classroom held its collective breath as the stringy black hair atop Snape’s head went a shocking pink, the color of _Droobles_ best blowing gum. Snape caught sight of himself in the reflection of the nearest window.

Snape, raising his wand at a bemused Hermione, shot back with: “ _Alarte Ascendar_!”

Hermione quickly dodged, it, circling around to the far side of the room. The class gave a cheer as if this were the most delightful play they’d ever witnessed. In what other class could they claim to have seen Professor Snape with pink hair?

 _“_ _Locomotor Mortis!”_

_“Protego!”_

Snape stepped back from his shield, his hair still a shocking pink. Hermione was so distracted by this that she walked right into his second “ _Alarte Ascendar_.”

She gave a small gasp of surprise as she was capitulated into the air, nearly touching the top of the vaulted classroom ceiling. All eyes were on her as she came tumbling back to the ground.

“ _Arresto Momentum_!” came Snape’s smooth baritone. Immediately Hermione could feel as her body slowed its rapid descent, giving her the feeling of someone jumping out of a plane and then releasing a parachute.

As her feet touched the ground there was a loud ad vigorous shouting from the classroom. All were on their feet, clapping away in delight and she could hear snatches of excited conversation between them.

_“That was brilliant!”_

_“So cool!”_

_“I want to learn!”_

Hermione glanced at her students, feeling her heart burst as they echoed her sentiment timidly at the man who was pulling his frock coat and cloak back on with practiced efficiency.

“Thank you so much,” Hermione enthused, high on the success of her demonstration.

“It was my pleasure, Professor Granger.”

Snape was looking at her with a strange expression on his pale face. It was almost amusement but something more. Instead of looking away as she always did when she felt his gaze linger, she returned it, her heart thrumming.

It was likely their mutual distraction that caused them to miss Olliver in the front row chattering to himself, his wand brandished. He had an animated look in his eyes and his chest was puffed excitedly.

“I can do it too! _Incendio Maximus_!”

Before Hermione could react, the spell had been cast directly into her chest and she went flying.

Then it all went black.

***

_“Hermione?”_

The voice of Poppy was far away. And yet she thought she could feel the warmth of the woman’s hand on her forehead.

_“Hermione can you hear me?”_

When she moved she groaned in pain. Her hands went to her abdomen to find her entire torso was bandaged up. She felt as if she had been asleep for days. Everything was swimming and disorientating. When she mentioned this fact, Poppy’s hand was on her forearm.

“That’ll be effects of the pain potion.”

“W-What happened?”

“Professor Snape brought you,” Poppy said, her mouth in a tight line of concern. “Said you’d been hit with a stray spell by Olliver Ghast this afternoon.”

It was well known that harming another at Hogwarts with magic would result in immediate expulsion. Visions of Olliver’s devastated face bubbled up within Hermione’s mind.

“Oh he didn’t mean it!” Hermione said, shifting and then crying out at the pain that went through her body. “Truly! It was an accident!”

“Professor Snape mentioned that,” Pomfrey nodded. “Said the boy was simply overeager to show off what he’d learned.”

“He said that?”

“Yes.”

“Was anyone else hurt?”

“No,” Pomfrey shook her head. “Seems you were hit with the brunt of it.”

Hermione relaxed back a bit into the bed at this, thankful her students were not injured. She could only imagine Filius would be furious when he found out what had happened.

Her surroundings became clearer and for a moment she was completely thrown – it felt so similar to the final war and waking up here. She almost expected to see Snape in the empty bed next to her.

Pomfrey helped to change her bandages, ignoring when Hermione gave a low moan at the sight of ravaged flesh of her left side. It was oozing and bloodied and burnt in areas. It felt like a shock when Pomfrey touched the dressings to remove them.

“I will do my best,” Pomfrey said, pressing a cool lotion of Hermione’s ribs. “But it may leave a scar.”

“I don’t care about that,” Hermione hissed through her clenched teeth. Scars were merely a reminder that she'd lived through something. Like Snape's at his neck or Harry's upon his forehead. They were reminders of survival.

“Good.”

Dinner was brought shortly after and Pomfrey excused herself. Hermione was propped up, her head on the pillow as the food appeared on the raised tray above her thighs. Hermione was sad to realize she’d miss talking to her friend on the dais this evening. She wanted to ask him more about the accident. 

"Hello.”

Her eyes snapped up as the very person stood at the end of her bed.His shocking pink hair was gone, and the familiar Raven locks hung on either side of his pale, pinched-looking face..

“Severus!”

She shifted and immediately winced, holding her sides. They ached something terrible. 

“Don’t get up,” Snape insisted, raising a hand gracefully between them. “I’ve simply come to check on your progress.”

His eyes were so soft looking that Hermione felt her entire body tingling. His hands were at his sides now, delicate and beautiful. Was Ginny right? Did Hermione fancy him? Desperate to not acknowledge that feeling, she began to babble, her eyes falling everywhere but his face.

“I’ll be fine,” Hermione smiled weakly. “I may have an ugly looking scar at the end of the day. But I’m glad Olliver is fine. And you are as well. Isn’t it strange being here again? Seems the tables have turned.”

Hermione forced a smile as she looked up at him from the hospital bed. It was a disarming tableau, considering that it would have been he in the bed the last time.

The night she had saved him.

That night he had claimed to hate her.

Snape's gaze darkened at her words and he began to retreat. Sensing her error, Hermione struggled to prop herself up in the bed. But the pain caused her to wince, crying out.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean-"

Snape gave her a nod and then before she could get used to his eyes on her face he was gone, his robes trailing around the door and out of sight.

He was gone.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well it's finally over! After my laptop deleted this chapter and I had to rewrite the entire thing (ugh !!) I am delighted to announce that it is complete! Almost 30, 000 words ! I can't wait to start working on my other stories - hopefully you'll read them as well! Thank you for coming on this journey with my favorite couple ! Please read and review !

And just as the friendship between Hermione and Severus had bloomed, it was cut mercilessly down. He did not return to visit her.

Harry and Ron had come to check on her, of course, when they heard the news. They brought her sweets and chatted about work and eventually the upcoming May wedding. Ron was fixated on the event and Harry was rolling his eyes at Ron’s obsessive desire to have everything just so. As a boy who had lived with hand-me-down’s Ron was determined that this event would be splashy and his very own.

“How did you get to the infirmary after your were hit?” Ron asked, wiping chocolate from the corner of his mouth. He was sat on the end of her bed whilst Harry positioned himself in a nearby chair.

“I…I don’t know,” Hermione answered truthfully. “I assume that one of the students or Snape told Pomfrey.”

In truth, Hermione had been so preoccupied with her falling out with Severus that she didn’t consider how she’d been brought to the hospital wing. Images of her prone body being floated down the halls made her flush with embarrassment. It was undignified and she could only hope that not many had seen her.

The next day Ginny and Luna brought by some of her favorite books to read while she convalesced and Hermione offered them what was left of her chocolates. It was a miracle there were any left after Ron’s visit. The two girls sat on the edges of Hermione’s bed, as if she weren’t bandaged in the infirmary, but instead they were at one of their old sleepovers.

“That poor boy,” Luna said when Hermione explained what had happened in the classroom. “He was so excited to show off.”

“He’s lucky no one was killed,” Ginny admonished. “Silly prat.”

“Still, it’s lucky Professor Snape was there,” Luna added. “Imagine what would have happened if you’d been left injured for too long!”

Before Hermione could reply, the curtains of her small room were brought back and Flitwick weighted down with an array of items appeared.

“Oh how good to see you awake,” Flitwick crowed when he saw Hermione sitting up and looking well. “Madame Pomfrey has been keeping us staff up to date on your progress. So good to see you looking so well."

“Hello Filius,” Hermione answered with a smile as he made his way toward them, the boxes of sweets almost toppling out of his tiny hands.

“I have come bearing sweets from the rest of the staff,” Flitwick said with a wide smile as he placed down the items next to Hermione’s bed. “And flowers especially from Sprout’s garden. How good to see you Miss Lovegood, Mrs. Potter.”

“Hello Professor,” the girls chorused.

“And how are wedding plans coming along, Miss Lovegood?” Flitwick asked merrily, taking a seat next to the bed. Luna, excited to see her former head of house, immediately launched into her theories on why nargles enjoyed the taste of wedding flowers.

“Any luck with your fellow?” Ginny teased in a whisper only Hermione could hear.

“Ginny I don’t know what you’re on about,” Hermione huffed, popping another chocoball into her mouth and chewing sullenly.

Ginny said nothing, but her gimlet eyes spoke of a deeper understanding than she was letting on.

The day Hermione was discharged from the Infirmary she went marching down to Snape’s office, intent on apologizing in person. Her heart was fluttering and for reasons she would not admit, her legs were shaking.

When she didn’t find him in his usual places (the office, the staff room, the library) she decided she would muster her courage and head straight to his private chambers. She had never been invited there and after a quick request from a house elf she was directed to them.

Hermione could feel the sweat pooling in her palms and she wiped them anxiously on her skirt. She knew she must look a fright, even after her time in the Infirmary she still looked pale and wan. She winced if she turned too abruptly, but that would fade with time. 

She brought a trembling hand to the door, and after a moment of indecision knocked loudly. Almost immediately she heard shuffling behind the door and it opened a fraction. Hermione was confused to see a blonde woman staring back at her from the other side of the door.

“Oh…hullo,” Hermione said awkwardly glancing around. Was she at the right room? Who was this person? “I must have the wrong-“

“Hello,” the blonde woman said with a short smile. “You must be looking for Severus. He’s just in the loo.”

“I’m sorry,” Hermione said, her voice sounding distant in her ears. “I was looking for Professor Snape to ask him a question but… I can come back another time.”

He was in the loo? And this woman was _here_? Who was this woman? This tall, elegant looking creature who was in Snape’s private chamber? Snape had never mentioned a woman before.

_Why would he? It’s none of your business._

“Is it urgent?” The woman looked anxiously at Hermione. “Shall I give him a message?”

Hermione goggled at the woman a moment longer, unsure of what to say when Snape appeared from around the corner of the room. 

He was dressed only in a lawn shirt with sleeves folded to the elbow and even his cravat was missing. Hermione felt her stomach drop at the sight. It was so unnervingly intimate a state of dress.

"Hermione?" He blinked in surprise at the sight of her. "What are you doing here?”

Her mind went back to their moment in the classroom, dodging hexes and smiling at one another. Having fun like friends should! What had changed? Had she truly said something so wrong?

“I…I uh,” Hermione knew she sounded stupid. She hadn’t been expecting him to have company. “I wondered if… I just thought…”

Seeming to realize she had nothing of use to say, Snape fixed her with a strange look and strode towards the door. The blonde woman had moved from the doorframe and was now sitting before the fire, looking through one of Snape’s books.

The sight of this made Hermione feel ill. Snape had never invited Hermione to read his books in his private chamber. They had always been stuck in the staff room in the stiff staff chairs. 

His features were shadowed as he approached, moving to the door that Hermione hovered beside. She noticed that as he approached, he did up the buttons of his shirt, not wanting to expose himself to her. For some reason, this hurt her more than she was anticipating. Her eyes remained stuck on his neck, the neck that only moments had been bared for this blonde woman to see. 

“I’m afraid I’m quite busy,” he explained in a quiet voice. “Have a pleasant evening.”

Before Hermione could make a further fool of herself, the door was shut firmly in her face.

She had been dismissed.

After a moment of Hermione staring at the ancient oak door, she turned and slowly trudged to her private quarters. She fed a very noisy Crookshanks before letting him out to hunt for the night.

In silence she unbuttoned her blouse, undressed and pulled on her nightdress before she slowly slipped into the covers of her bed.

_Snape had a woman in his chambers. He was half dressed with a beautiful witch._

But why shouldn’t he? He was a man after all! And men liked pretty things. Not former students with a penchant for rambling and hand waving. She remembered him on the floor of the shack and the unbearable weight of knowing he may die unfulfilled.

"He's happy," Hermione told herself. "That was the whole point of saving him. Giving him a chance at a new life. I wanted him to be happy."

She kept repeating this to herself as she turned onto her back in bed, frustrated that her eyes seemed to be leaking. She lay in bed, staring up at the ceiling and repeating her mantra over and over until the morning light shone through her window.

"He deserves to be happy."

***

When Hermione returned to assisting Filius after her stint in the Infirmary a week later, she did it without the friendship of Severus Snape.

Instead of nights talking in the staff room, Snape seemed to have vanished. If she saw him on the corridor, it was only his back or profile, stalking off towards some unknown destination.

Snape was suddenly busy all evenings and when Hermione tried to suggest a staff trip to homemade for a pint he had brushed her off with some vague excuse. It had hurt but she had moved past it.

As May approached and Hermione’s first year of apprenticeship was drawing to a close, she could focus on the things that mattered. Her parents. She had still been reading all she could on the subject, even writing to other Masters of charms to see if they would give her any ideas. So far she had come up blank.

Over the past few months Hermione had indeed seen the same blonde witch at least once a month heading down to Snape’s private chambers. If she caught sight of Hermione she would wave, but Hermione rarely acknowledged her. She knew it was petty, but she couldn’t help it. Something about the woman rubbed her the wrong way.

Severus Snape was happy. He had obviously moved on from Lily Potter to this new witch and Hermione was happy for him.

At least she thought she was.

***

One evening there was a knock at her door, urgent and unrelenting. It was uncommon to have visitors this time of night, especially ones that knocked so abruptly. Hermione stumbled from her bed, feeling weightless as she approached the door and threw it open.

On the other side stood Severus, looking at her with an unreadable expression. He was dressed only in a lawn shirt and trousers. Power fairly radiated from him. Instead of surprise, Hermione felt a remarkable feeling of lust flow through her body.

“What are you doing here?”

He didn’t speak, but instead moved into her chambers, slamming the door behind him. He never took his eyes off of her.

Without a word he advanced, pulling her wrist and tugging her body into his. She was breathless when he pressed his mouth to hers, slanting his lips against hers and kissing her soundly.

Finally he pulled back, his glittering dark eyes fixed upon hers.

_“You need to wake up.”_

Hermione started awake, her dark eyes wide and darting from side to side. She was thrown, this wasn’t her chambers. This was a plain, clean looking guest room with a framed poster of the Hollyhead Harpies on the far wall.

“You need to wake up,” Ginny repeated, looking down at Hermione with an amused look. “The wedding is soon and you haven’t even had breakfast yet.”

She was at Harry and Ginny’s. 

School had ended a week ago.

It was the day of the Weasley wedding and she had spent the night before so they could all get ready together. Considering she had no date, they had decided to attend as a threesome. Well, foursome of you included the newest addition (baby James).

As if on cue the plaintive wail of the new baby sounded from the next room. Ginny gave a good natured roll of her eyes before leaving Hermione and closing the door behind her.

Hermione rose, showering dressing and doing her best to tame her hair. She met the rest of them for breakfast as Harry rocked James, making gentle shushing sounds. He looked such a natural father Hermione felt her heart burst with adoration. He glanced up at her with a smile.

“Cuppa?”

“Mmm, please.”

As Hermione ate her eggs and toast, Ginny (in an alarming imitation of Molly) had begun brushing Hermione’s hair and applying liberal amounts of Sleekeasy. Hermione felt doted on and for a moment felt her eyes water.

When breakfast was finished, Ginny insisted on a bit of makeup for Hermione and herself. Then the trio was dressed

“Ron’s already owled twice this morning,” Harry said as he pulled on his boots. “He’s worried he’s going to forget his vows.”

“Silly thing,” Ginny chided affectionately as she placed her sleeping infant into its pram. “It’s going to be perfect.”

“Well I’m off,” Harry said, pressing a kiss to his wife’s cheek. “Ron needs me to help with some set up. I’ll see you two there.”

With that, he had apparated to the wedding destination. Ginny and Hermione gathered all the items that baby James would need for the ceremony and reception. Ginny was convinced he would be milk drunk the entire time.

Due to the infant’s age, Apparation for Ginny was out of the question. Hermine had volunteered to walk with her to the nearby park. It was gorgeous, with a running stream and endless trees.

The location was a brisk walk and the day was perfect. Sunny with a slight breeze and Hermione took a deep sigh as they walked, closing her eyes a moment to take in the splendor of the day.

“You must have been having quite the dream,” Ginny said, noticing Hermione’s mood. “You were making a racket when I woke you.”

Immediately Hermione flushed at the memory, but she tried her best to look nonchalant.

“How do you know it wasn’t a nightmare?”

“By the sounds you were making.”

“Ginny!”

***

In the grove of trees there were lights of all kinds hanging suspended. An arch covered in blossoms stood at the far end of the space. Wooden pews were lined up on either side of a petal strewn aisle.

It was magnificent.

A Muggle repelling charm ensured that no unwelcome visitors crashed the nuptials. And considering the vast amount of people at the wedding (including the press) it was a shock that they didn’t attract all of England.

Luna came down the aisle in a flowing piece of beauty with an ever changing color that suggested the wings of a dragonfly. It flowed over her like moving water and both Ginny and Hermione had tears in their eyes.

Ron did not forget his vows, but he did drop the ring twice in fumbling nervousness. It had made for a good laugh and even Ron had to admit later that it had been amusing. Luna didn’t seem to mind, she simply laughed aloud, citing that her husband’s sense of humor was what she loved best about him.

It wasn’t until the guests had stood, clapping for the newly announced couple that Hermione saw him. He was standing near the back of the grove, clapping gently as the couple passed him. He was resplendent in new robes, and his hair was brushed back from his angular face.

“What is Snape doing here?”

“Watching the wedding?” Ginny said with a frown. “He was invited of course.”

“Right,” Hermione said dumbly. “I just didn’t think he’d actually attend.”

In truth Severus Snape rarely attended any social gathering, especially one that involved media attention.

As the party moved deeper into the forest for the reception, Hermione couldn’t help but glance over her shoulder to catch another glimpse of Severus. He was talking quietly to a grey-haired witch as they moved through the grass.

_At least the blonde isn’t here._

***

Three hours later and the food had been eaten, speeches had been made and the cake had been cut. Hermione was always interested to see how similar wizarding and muggle marriages were. The only difference was the binding ceremony with the wedding rings.

Ron and Luna were in the middle of their first dance, swaying from side to side in a gesture of loving comfort. Harry and Ginny whispered back and forth, giggling madly. Hermione was rocking baby James in her arms, looking down into his sleeping face and smiling fondly.

“You darling thing,” Hermione cooed. “You’re going to do such wonderful things.”

“Here let me take him,” Molly urged from the other side of Hermione. “You go off and have a dance.”

Hermione handed the baby to his gran, but she made no move to dance. Instead Hermione allowed herself a moment of silent spying at a table on the other side of the grove.

Snape was seated at a table with some of the other Professors. He looked dapper in his new robes and she couldn’t help but observe his tapered fingers wrapped around the crystal tumbler. 

He seemed more relaxed now than at the ceremony. Likely because press hadn’t been permitted to the wedding reception. He was sitting, talking to Sprout and drinking what appeared to be fire whiskey.

The slow dance ended and a rapid beat suddenly began from the wizarding band Ron had hired. Hermione smiled as several couples raced to the dance floor and began to dance enthusiastically.

Out of nowhere, Ginny had grabbed Hermione’s wrist, pulling her from her chair. Laughing and assuming that Ginny wanted a dance, Hermione let herself be lead by the firey readhead.

It wasn’t until they bypassed the dance floor in favor of the teacher’s table that she began to tug her wrist back.

“Ginny, what are you-“

“I want to say hello,” Ginny insisted, not relenting in her vice-like grip on Hermione’s wrist. “Come with.”

The two of them were welcomed by a slightly tipsy Sprout and a very blottoed Vector. McGonagall was chatting to Severus when they approached, but she quickly stopped in order to greet them.

“Hello ladies.”

“Hello Headmistress,” Ginny responded, glancing around the table and greeting each Professor in turn. She ended with Snape who looked remarkably uncomfortable all of a sudden.

“Professor Snape!” Ginny gushed, looking down at the pale face of Snape. “I’m so chuffed you could make it!”

“Thank you,” Snape said stiffly, his eyes everywhere but Hermione’s. “It’s a lovely event. You must be delighted at the addition of a sister in a sea of Weasley testosterone.”

“Oh I am,” Ginny agreed enthusiastically. “But to be fair Hermione has always felt like a sister to me.”

Snape took another sip of his whiskey, choosing not to acknowledge this comment.

“Hello,” Hermione said awkwardly, quietly irritated that he was ignoring her. Slowly his dark eyes moved to her face and Snape gave a silent nod in reply.

“Can I get anyone anything more to drink?” Ginny offered, looking around to the pink faces of her former teachers.

“I should be leaving,” Snape offered gruffly, looking suddenly disconcerted. “I’ve much to accomplish tomorrow.”

“Spoil sport!” McGonagall teased. “We finally get you out of that office of yours and you’re running away again!”

_Probably into a certain blonde’s arms._

Hermione frowned. She didn’t know why her friend fancying someone else was such a hardship for her. She realized it was because she thought Snape was her friend, and his friendship had come to mean a lot to her.

“Oh do have a dance before you go,” Ginny implored, looking at Snape with wide eyes. “Hermione here hasn’t even had a twirl yet.”

“ _Ginny_ ,” Hermione warned quiet through her teeth. She felt her entire body must be red with shame at this point. She wanted nothing more than to rush from her side, but Ginny’s hand was still on her wrist.

The music had slowed in tempo, a sweet serene ballad.

Snape lowered his tumbler to the table and stood abruptly, extending his hand to Hermione.

“Shall we?”

Hermione knew that after a moment of shock she had taken his hand. She knew that she moved to the dance floor with him. And she knew that he had turned slightly in order to put his free hand on the small of her back.

But all of this seemed to go by in a haze because as she looked up into his face, the world seemed to suddenly sharpen and crystallize. His eyes were on hers and she could feel his fingertips lightly digging into her flesh.

“You look lovely tonight,” Snape said, his voice a silken purr.

Hermione blinked rapidly at this comment. She hadn’t been expecting that.

“Thank you,” she responded awkwardly. “So do you.”

Snape gave a small half smile, the shadow of a dimple disappearing as his mouth fell relaxed once more. Hermione prayed her right hand in Snape’s wasn’t soaking wet. She was so nervous being this close to him, breathing in the spicy scent of potions ingredients still embedded in these robes he wore.

The scent drove home a myriad of memories; of laughing together during their duel, of talking animatedly before the staff room fire. An ache bloomed within her chest as she recounted these moments of friendship.

“I haven’t seen you much,” Hermione said, feeling bold.

“I’ve been busy,” was his still reply. Hermione nodded, her mind whirring as they swayed gently on the dance floor, occasionally being bumped into by other more amorous couples.

“I’ve missed it,” Hermione blurted. “I’ve missed you.”

Snape said nothing to this, but the grip of his hand tightened. He seemed to be concerned because the slash between his eyebrows had deepened. Hermione found herself suddenly unable to look at his face. She decided on chin instead.

“I thought you might hate me,” Hermione offered with a weak laugh to cover the truth in it. “For what I said in the Infirmary.”

Snape quirked a brow down at her as if cataloguing their experiences together.

"I've never hated you Hermione," Snape said in a soft rumble. At his words Hermione felt her eyes growing wet. This confirmation, this solidification that she hadn’t done the wrong thing was like a salve to her soul.

“Really?”

"Really,” Snape confirmed. “And I don't intend to start now."

His mouth was inches from her own and the memory of last night’s dream assaulted her. Hermione felt her own mouth parting, not to speak, but to taste the man so close to her. She leaned forward, unable to stop herself.

But then the song ended and with a small nod in her direction, Snape’s hands fell from her body. He moved past her, leaving a desire for his warmth in his place.

Hermione watched as he moved into the forest to leave, the soft glow of his wand illuminating his path. All the feeling she had been trying to sort through became suddenly clear.

_I fancy Severus Snape._

***

“I fancy Severus Snape,” Hermione said aloud to Ginny a week after the wedding.

They were in Ginny’s kitchen, sharing a tin of biscuits and freshly made tea. Harry was out for a walk with James, so they had blissful silence.

“I know,” Ginny said, taking a sip of tea as if this were the most natural conversation in the world.

“I know you do,” Hermione said with a frown. “It’s all your fault.”

“What did I do?” Ginny said, feigning innocence. “All I did was suggest you dance together.”

“Ginny.”

“I saw the way you two were staring at each other during that dance,” Ginny smirked. “It was delicious.”

“Oh enough,” Hermione said with a wail, dropping her head to the table. “It’s the most horrible thing.”

“How is it horrible?” Ginny said confused. “You fancy him, he seems to fancy you. Seems wonderful.”

“You’ve seen him dance with me,” Hermione insisted with a frown, raising her head a fraction. “That’s it.”

“Oh that’s _not_ it,” Ginny said, looking more mischievous than the twins put together. “I did a bit of digging and certain behaviors cannot be ignored. Did you know that a certain Professor carried you to the Infirmary the day of the accident?”

Hermione sat up abruptly.

“What?”

“With his two arms,” Ginny emphasized. “The same very talented wizard who could have easily cast a _Mobilicorpus_ and levitated you there chose to carry you through the castle and shouted to Madame Pomfrey that you be seen immediately.”

Images of Snape doing just that caused Hermione’s body to shoot through with what felt like an electric current. “He did?”

“Mhmm,” Ginny laughed at Hermione’s shocked face. “He also helped Madame Pomfrey and grabbed all his best healing potions. Apparently he looked white as a sheet.”

Hermione said nothing, but her dark brown eyes seemed to take up the majority of her face in that moment.

“He kept whispering that you couldn’t die, over and over. Apparently he did it so much that Pomfrey got irritated and told him to sod off and that she’d tell him when you were better.”

“How do you know this?”

“You’re not the only person who’s friends with professors,” Ginny said with an air superiority. “When I came to visit you I also popped in to see Madame Pomfrey. She told me everything.”

For a beautiful moment Hermione felt that everything made sense. That Snape did in fact fancy her and that she fancied him back. She saw a future of brilliant conversation and lovemaking and she wanted to stay in that moment forever.

But then reality came crashing down, as it always does, deflating Hermione immediately. Ginny seemed to notice the change in her friend and placed a comforting hand over Hermione’s.

“What’s wrong?”

With tears in her eyes, Hermione detailed her experience. How Snape never talked with her after that ghastly event, how he had begun seeing a blonde woman for the past several months and how Hermione had found Snape in there with her, half dressed.

Ginny’s face fell and she shook her head slowly.

“I am so sorry Hermione. If I had known, I never would have-“

“It’s not your fault,” Hermione insisted with a brave smile. “That dance was lovely and perhaps it’s a good thing. We talked a bit and perhaps we can be friends when I pick back up in September.”

Ginny said nothing, but looked miserably into her tea. “But what if he and the blonde get married?”

Hermione knew that it would be hard. Hell, it would likely hurt her quite badly. But she also knew the promise she had made him on the floor of the Shrieking Shack.

_“You can hate me after you've lived a life that was properly your own. Not Voldemort's. Or Dumbledores. You can hate me after you've found a new woman to love. You can hate me when you marry her and have lots of greasy-haired babies.”_

She had meant it then. She wanted him to have a life of his own and if the blonde woman meant that, then he deserved it. He deserved it all.

“I’ll be happy for him,” Hermione insisted truthfully. “I want him to be happy.”

***

_Dear Severus,_

_It was lovely to see you at the wedding. I do miss our chats very much and wonder if you’d be free for a pint sometime during your summer holidays?_

_Hermione_

_\-------------_

_Hermione,_

_I’m afraid that I will be out of the country for the next few months._

_Perhaps when I return._

_\- S_ _nape_

***

It was a very humid day in late July when the unthinkable happened. Hermione had been pondering what to get Ginny for her birthday when there was a knock at the door of her flat. 

She looked at her watch, noticing the early hour. She had been up, trying to enjoy the warmth of the day before it got too sticky. She wasn’t expecting anyone, but that didn’t mean that Ron or Luna might not be on the other side, eager to tell her they were pregnant. She had a strong feeling they were but weren’t saying much.

She moved quickly the door flinging it open with an excited smile on her face at the thought of another new baby.

“Hello my darling.”

Before Hermione could understand what was happening, two sets of arms were hugging her tightly, and her neck was wet with her mother’s tears. Hermione’s pulled back, insistent that she needed to see their faces.

“Mum… Dad,” Hermione whispered, looking at their faces back and forth as if she were in a dream. “Is it really you?”

Hermione trailed off, unable to form more words. The last time she had seen her parents they were Wendell and Monica Wilkins and they had no daughter and were enjoying their life in New Zealand.

But now? Now they were looking at her with recognition and delight. Hermione’s father (who she had never seen cry in all her life) was red-eyed and his face was splotchy. Hermione felt her lower lip tremble as she looked from him to her softly sobbing mother. 

“You know who I am?”

Jean Granger nodded emphatically before pulling Hermione into a fierce hug. Hermione’s sobs were loudest of all, clinging to her parents as if she were a woman drowning. She fell to her knees and her parents slipped to the floor with her, never letting her go.

“Two years,” Jean was crying, rocking Hermione back and forth on the floor as if she were an infant again. “Two years without you.”

“It all came flooding back,” Wendell whimpered, pressing a kiss to the top of his daughter’s head. “We remembered everything. We hopped on a plane the moment we could.”

After several minutes of loud sobbing slowly ceased, Hermione rubbed at her eyes and urged them onto her sofa. The three of them huddled there, arms clasped and eyed red-rimmed.

“How did you find me?”

“All your letters,” Jean said, pulling out post marked missives from her large purse. Hermione saw that her mother was holding all the letters Hermione had sent them in the past two years, trying desperately for them to remember her.

“It seems I kept them all these years,” Jean said, looking confused. “I suppose I knew they were important.”

“We read them over and over,” Wendell agreed with a shaky smile. “It was like something out of a story. Our long lost daughter.”

“One morning we woke up,” Jean said, her smile wide. “And we remembered everything! You and what had happened. We remembered our old jobs and living in London.”

“Funny we ended up in New Zealand,” Wendell said with a choked laugh. “We’d always wanted to go.”

“Some part of you never forgot,” Hermione said, her eyes large and wide. “That’s what it must have been. A small part of you still remembered, even if the rest of you didn’t.”

For the next month, Hermione lived in complete and utter bliss. Her parents were back and they were so excited to learn of what had happened in their absence. Hermione got them

Some nights they camped out in her living room under a large blanked, she snuggled in between her parents. She felt content and full and joyful. She couldn’t wait to share this with everyone, especially Severus. He knew better than most how much this meant to her. She could thank him for his books and maybe even introduce her parents to him.

But for the first few weeks she wanted them to herself. She didn’t want to share them with anyone.

They went for long walks around London, sometimes walking in the zoo and eating iced lollies just like when she was little. There was something calming and comforting in the ritual of it.

Some nights they would talk for hours. Her parents still remembered their time in New Zealand and Hermione loved to listen to their stories and adventures.

Some mornings over coffee and crepes Hermione would tell them about all she’d learned in Charms and how much she was enjoying being Filius’ protégé. She loved showing them bits of magic around her flat, enjoying the way they smiled in awe of it all.

Some nights when they were asleep on the sofa – even after she’d offered them her bed- Hermione would creep out into the dark living room and watch them sleep a moment, as if terrified when she woke up that they would be gone.

But they never were. They were always there. And by mid August she had settled into the comfortable routine of waking to her parents making eggs and toast or her father popping off to the shop to bring back her favorite coffee.

Late one evening however she was laying in her bed and smiling absently. She could never have imagined her life being this perfect. She was about to pad out to where they were sleeping when she heard their hushed whispers. 

“ _What if she finds out?_ ” Jean was saying urgently. “ _How can we explain it?_ ”

“ _We can’t_ ,” Wendell insisted. “ _You know what we promised, Jean_.”

“ _What if he stops making it_?” Jean was whimpering, her cries muffled behind what Hermione could only assume was a blanket.

“ _Don’t talk like that_ ,” Wendell snapped, obviously anxious. “ _He promised he'd make us as much as we need_. _We have a year’s supply. I doubt he’d make that and then stop after a year. Now stop being so worried, love. I’ll make us a cuppa_.”

Hermione jumped out of bed, her heart hammering. She padded to the main room, her eyes blazing. Her parents turned, facing her anxiously.

“Darling-“

“What were you two on about?” Hermione said, her chin determined. “What do you have a years supply of?”

“Nothing,” Jean insisted, shaking her head emphatically. “It’s nothing darling. Go back to bed.”

“Mum, Dad, after all I’ve been through I won’t stand fo more lies,” Hermione insisted, her dark eyes narrowed. “Tell me what’s going on.”

The three of them sat around Hermione’s small kitchen table. Hermione flicked her wand and a fresh cup of tea appeared before each of her parents.

“Have you got anything stronger?” Wendell laughed weakly. “Ogden’s perhaps?”

“Tea will be fine,” Hermione snapped, feeling tired and irritable and anxious all at once. “Now start talking, the two of you.”

“It was this man,” Jean began.

“Jean!” Wendell insisted, touching his wife’s arm gently. “Stop.”

“What man?” Hermione felt breathless. A man had given her parents their memories back? But how?

“The man who brought back our memories,” Jean hedged, looking at Hermione anxiously. Wendell looked beside himself.

“Jean, we weren’t to say anything!” Wendell admonished.

“Oh I’m sorry,” Jean said, her face in a mask of deep concern as she looked back at Hermione. “Please say anything, Hermione. He was _very_ insistent we keep it a secret.”

“A secret?” Hermione was so confused. “This stranger brought back your memories and wanted to keep it a secret? How did he bring your memories back?”

Hermione’s father made no motion to move but her mother gave a mighty sigh and went to fetch her purse. Wendell watched this in silence as Jean came back to the table, producing a small sweets tin and placing it on the table.

Before they could react, Hermione had raised her wand overtop the tin, muttering under her breath. The three watch as a small white cloud appeared overtop the tin. Hermione sighed in relief- whatever was inside wasn’t dark magic.

She opened the tin, surprised to see that in place of sweets, there were small square wafers of the deepest purple. There were over a hundred of these small wafers, perfectly stacked within the tin.

“What are these?”

“They bring back our memories,” Wendell finally explained quietly. “We each take one, once a week. It ensures we don’t revert back into not knowing who we were or where we come from.”

“You take these and you don’t forget,” Hermione said, clarifying as she looked at the small purple squares. “It brings back your memories and keeps them.”

“Exactly.”

Hermione closed the tin and slid it back to her mother. “How long will you have to take these?”

“We’re not sure,” Jean said with a shrug.

“What about this anonymous stranger?” Hermione mused darkly.

“He said that he will replenish the tin every year,” Jean explained. “And he said that because this is experimental, we need to keep taking it until he says we can stop.”

Hermione said nothing, but stared at the tin. The entire conversation suddenly reverberated within her mind. She stood, pulling on her jacket.

“Mum, Dad, you go to bed.”

“Love, where are you going?”

“I’ll explain when I get back.”

***

It didn’t matter that it was nearing 3 am, Hermione was insistent that Snape open the door. She had it on good authority that he stayed at Hogwarts over the summer and she would continue to bang on this door until he answered.

Moments later Snape appeared, opening the door a crack. He was dressed in his grey nightshirt, staring at Hermione through sleepy blood-shot eyes. He opened the door fully when he saw who it was.

"It was you," Hermione bit off each word.

"Beg pardon?"

"You fixed my parents," Hermione said. "How?"

Snape was silent a moment, his brows furrowed.

“I haven’t the foggiest what you’re on about.”

He was so convincing an actor, if she hadn’t been so sure she would have been dissuaded.

“Firewhiskey.”

Snape stared blankly at her before opening the door further, silently welcoming her into his domain. If she hadn’t been so utterly furious at him, she could have enjoyed seeing his sanctum open to her.

He reached for a nearby robe, cinching it around his narrow waist, clearly still groggy from being awoken at such an hour.

“You want a drink? At this hour?” 

Despite his disbelief Snape produced two tumblers and placed them on the coffee table before the fire. He motioned for her to take a seat before pouring them both a small finger of it.

He pushed her glass towards her, settling into his chair with his own.

“What brand is that?” Hermione said, her gaze steely.

“Ogdens,” Snape replied slowly, tipping some into his mouth. He continued to stare at her, his face void of expression.

“So you’re not off in another country,” Hermione said acidly, her arms crossed over her chest as she continued to stare him down. 

“No. I’m back.”

Not to be outdone by Hermione’s dark gaze, Snape fixed her with an equally withering stare. 

“My father is not a wizard,” Hermione stated suddenly, causing Snape to make a moue of confusion. “He and my mother don’t know anything outside of what I tell them. My father enjoys a good tipple now and then, but I’ve never thought to bring him wizarding alchohol. I don’t drink often myself and I certainly never mention anything outside of butterbeer.”

“I fail to see-“

“And yet tonight, he requested _Ogden’s_ ,” Hermione continued flatly. “Do you have any idea of where he may have heard of it?”

A flicker of something akin to panic flashed behind Snape’s eyes. But his face remained neutral.

“I don’t.”

“No?” Hermione asked, pretending to be surprised. “You don’t think oh, another wizard may have told him about it? A wizard that I know for a fact prefers _Ogden’s_ over all other firewhiskey brands?”

Snape said nothing,

“Why did you do it?” Hermione asked quietly, all the anger seeping out of her body. “And more importantly _how_?”

Snape regarded Hermione a moment before swearing under his breath. Without missing a beat he’d drained his glass of firewhiskey and taken hers for good measure. The drowsy quality he’d been wearing was gone, replaced with sharp calculation. She could see he was deciding how much to share with her.

“Last year I went to see an old master of mine. Very reclusive, very hard to find,” Snape said, his voice so soft Hermione had to lean forward to hear him. “I had studied under him for years in my youth. He is one of the reasons I was so successful a potioneer. I told him of your parents and their memories and he seemed to think that a potion may be the answer.”

Hermione remained silent, listening raptly. Snape looked uncomfortable, loosening the neck of his nightshirt a moment.

“When I wasn’t teaching my classes, I was visiting with him. Going over notes, testing potions. Over and over we had no success and I was left so irritated and exhausted. But then one evening in late March we came upon it an experimental potion, one that required very specific ingredients.”

Hermione continued listening, her mouth slightly parted as she took in all of this. He stood abruptly, going to his bookcase and pulling down an ancient looking tome. It wasn’t one of the one she had borrowed from him.

"The potion takes months to brew," Snape explained, pointing to the large book opened to a page cramped with handwritten notes. "It's precarious and temperamental. I completely ruined the first base batch because I left it on stasis too long at the wrong moment."

"You left something on stasis too long?" Hermione was shocked at this. it was a rudimentary mistake, not even second years would make.

"The night of the wedding," Snape admitted. "I should have left earlier than I did."

Hermione felt her mouth run dry at this. She had been the reason Snape had messed up on his potion? Because he was dancing with her?

“Why not ask for help?”

“It was experimental,” Snape replied uneasily. “And the entire situation involving your parents was private. You had said so yourself.” Hermione nodded, waiting for him to continue. “However because it was such a specific potion, it required elements from your parents that I needed to procure.” 

“Why not ask me to get them for you?” Hermione insisted, her eyes watering.

Snape was quiet for a long moment, his fingertips tapping on his knee

“It called for tears of sorrow and blood borne of their pain,” Snape finally explained. “I knew that you couldn’t do that. You couldn’t put them through the emotional or physical pain again. So I did what needed to be done.”

“Which was?”

“I told them of my family,” Snape explained, looking uncomfortable. “Of growing up unloved and abused. Of having my first real friend killed because of me. They cried buckets over that.”

Hermione was shocked. Snape was so notoriously private about these things. And yet he had shared them with her parents?

“And I had to hurt them, Hermione,” Snape said quietly. “I had to cause them such immense pain. I showed them visions of things in the war. I showed them the deaths and the fury and the loss. Then I cut their hands and took their blood.”

Hermione was weeping gently, knowing that her parents must have been so frightened.

“But when it was over I took the pain away,” Snape explained. “I gave them healing salves and I explained why it had to be done. When they took the potion they were scared but after a few moments it all came flooding back and they were so excited to see you again.”

Hermione was quiet for a long time, rubbing the tears from her eyes and finally turning them on Snape.

“Thank you. Thank you for bringing my parents back to me.”

Snape looked wildly uncomfortable as Hermione stood, marching over to where he sat and wrapping her arms around him. She felt him tense under her grip before she loosened her arms and sat on the edge of the coffee table at his knees. 

" _That's_ where you were all those evenings and weekends," Hermione felt the realization wash over her. "All this time I thought you were ignoring me."

"Ignoring you?" Snape raised a brow.

"Yes because... Well, because of all that happened." Hermione could feel tears pricking the corner of her eyes. "Because of that night in the infirmary when the war ended... What you said."

One single tear, unable to be held back began to trickle down her burning cheek. Snape leaned forward, his dark eyes searching her face.

"Hermione, when you saved me I was a very unhappy man with nothing to live for." Snape brought a forefinger to wipe away the traitorous tear from her face. “I said things I regret. I didn't mean them.”

Hermione nodded, her skin tingling from where he had touched her. “But you’ve been so cold to me lately.”

Snape sighed deeply, obviously not wishing to go into further detail. “When I saw you in the Infirmary bed I was so frightened. You had almost died and I hadn’t been quick enough to stop it.” 

Hermione paused. Snape had been frightened?

“But it wasn’t your fault.”

“You could have _died_ ,” Snape snapped, his dark eyes burning. “And I was _terrified_.”

“You were?”

"Hermione, I only ever had one friend. Lily Potter. And she dropped me the minute I didn't act exactly as she wanted," Snape's eyes were soft. "Still, she was very important to me. She was the first friend I ever had. And in all the years we knew one another, she wasn't half the friend you've become to me these past months." 

Hermione felt her breath leave her as he said this. Snape stood, moving to the fireplace and looking into its flames. He couldn’t seem to bring himself to look at Hermione as he spoke next. 

"I didn't want to lose you,” Snape finished, his shoulders hunched. “But I was worried if I was with you or even near you that something bad would happen. Something bad always happens to those I care about. I’m cursed. But I wanted to make you happy. I knew bringing your parents back would do that and I could do it from a safe distance.” 

Like a rubber band, something inside Hermione snapped. She rushed over to where Snape stood and gripped his shoulder. He turned, seeing her eyes flooding with fresh tears.

“You are not cursed.”

Without warning her hands were on either side of his face, forcing his mouth to meet hers. As his mouth slanted over hers, Hermione felt her entire body melting against his.

She waited for him to pull back or to push her from him. But instead Hermione’s body broke into gooseflesh as his palm slipped to the back of her neck, and one to her backside, as if he wanted to devour her completely.

He gripped her bottom, urging her pelvis against his. The kisses deepened, wrenching a moan from Hermione. Already the feel of Snape’s arousal poked into her abdomen, shocking her into pulling back.

"I'm sorry," Hermione immediately pulled back. “Oh I’m so sorry!”

“Whatever for?” Snape asked, his eyes on her mouth. He was panting slightly, his hands still reaching for her body.

Hermione felt so summarily ashamed, covering her face with her hands. "Severus, I know you have a girlfriend. I never should have kissed you. I’m so terribly ashamed of myself!”

She turned, her face burning as she prepared to run from his chambers.

"Stop," Snape said as he gripped her by the wrist and pulled gently. "What are you on about? What girlfriend?"

"That woman I always see coming out of your rooms," Hermione said with an embarrassed shrug.

"The blonde?" Snape said with a small quirk of his lip.

"Yes, the blonde,” Hermione frowned. She was shocked when Snape let out a rich chuckle, his corners of his eyes crinkling in amusement.

“You silly thing,” Snape said with affection. “She’s not my girlfriend.”

“Who is she then?”

"Her name is Indra Solenn, She's a healer," Snape explained, pulling the high neck of his nightshirt down and exposing the scar from Nagini. Instead of its usual raw and puckered look that she could see poking out his collar, it was a flesh color and the skin appeared smoother.

"I see you looking at it quite often." It was Snape’s turn to be embarrassed now. "I... I considered you might find it ugly or offensive. I tried several glamour's but they didn't work properly. When I contacted so Mungo's they offered a new treatment. But since Rita Skeeter seems determined to find reasons to put me in the paper, I asked if they would send a healer here, in private."

“I never thought your scar was offensive,” Hermione explained after a moment.

“You often stare at it,” Snape said stiffly, trying to look dignified. “As if you’re repulsed.”

“Never!” Hermione insisted. “When I look at it, I think of all we’ve gone through. I think of how lucky we are to have survived. I could never think any part of you is repulsive.”

Snape gave a small, awkward smile at that. Before he could stop her, Hermione had stepped on her tip toes and placed a kiss to the scar, a kiss of tender affection before pulling back. Snape had that soft, hungry look in his eyes. 

“I know you say that I’m a good friend,” Hermione said after a beat. “I'm afraid I don't want to be your friend. I’d like to be much more.”

“As would I.”

“No more curse nonsense,” Hermione insisted. “If anything I’d say we’re blessed. We found one another didn’t we?”

Snape’s smile was soft and he nodded ever so gently. She knew he wasn’t one for saccharine comments, but the darling man went along with it any way.

Hermione smiled up at him before gripping his hand and leading him in the direction of what she assumed was his bedroom.

***

**Two years Later**

***

“Mum! Bring the sprouts!”

“I’m coming!” Jean shouted from the other room. “If only your father would get off his arse and help it would go much faster!”

"I'm entertaining our guests!"

“Well the turkey’s done and it’s coming out,” Hermione laughed to herself as her father made some comment about boiled potatoes. She brought the bird to the table, smiling at her Mother as she fussed with the plates and cutlery.

“You're a Charms Master,” Wendell grumbled from his spot in front of the television. “Can’t you just charm dinner from now on?”

“You lazy moo!” Jean admonished from her place at the table. 

Jean and Wendell had moved into their new home shortly after Hermione and Severus had appeared at the flat, holding hands and explaining that secrets were behind them. It was a modest home with a large table, perfect for hosting events.

Her friends were in the living room with Wendell watching the golf game. Ron was fascinated by it, patting Luna’s swollen stomach and whispering about the strangeness of Muggle games. 

Harry bounced an excited looking James on his lap and a very pregnant Ginny commented on how she and Luna were the same time along and yet Ginny looked like a baby erumpet.

“Where’s Severus?” Wendell asked. “This isn’t much of an engagement dinner if the groom-to-be is missing!”

“He’ll be here dad,” Hermione said, rolling her eyes. And as if on cue, her fiancé appeared in the kitchen. He was dressed in slacks and an grey sweater (Jean’s latest Christmas gift to him). He’d obviously come right from his Apothecary shop.

“Sorry I’m late,” he said, handing a bottle of _Ogden’s_ to Wendell and kissing Jean on the cheek. “Got a new order in and had to start the base before I left.”

“Not at all dear,” Jean insisted, looking adoringly at her future son-in-law. “We’re still setting up.”

Snape came over to where Hermione stood at the corner of the room, pressing a full kiss to her lips before whispering all the debauched things they’d be doing when he got her home later that night. Hermione flushed and giggled as Snape went to talk with Wendell about the game. 

Ginny glanced over to where Hermione stood and gave her friend a knowing wink before glancing back to her husband. Snape was laughing about something Harry had said and Luna said something that made Ron laugh until he hiccupped.

As Hermione looked over at the scene, the sight of her family and friends all together she couldn’t help but muse just how thankful she was she had returned to the shack that night. And how much richer her life was for having Severus Snape in it.


End file.
